Dragon's Rage
by MB18932
Summary: Meredith, furious with Champion Garret Hawke's support of the mages in Kirkwall, sends Ser Alrik, who somehow survived, after Hawke's lover, Merrill. She quickly recives a nuclear response. Heavily inspired by fangirl42's story, The Tranquil Solution.
1. Prologue

Prologue

"_Enough, Varric," Cassandra Pentaghast snapped. "I have heard enough." "Ah, but Seeker," the dwarven story-teller mockingly complained, "I haven't gotten to the best part of my story; the Battle of the Gallows!" "I don't need to hear it from you; it is obvious what happened." _

_Cassandra seemed extremely irked. "Garret Hawke, Champion of Kirkwall, publically denounces Knight Commander Meredith, champions the mages of the Circle, and, barely three days later, takes control of the City Guard and all the mercenaries in the city, and launches an unprovoked attack on the Gallows, slaughters almost every templar stationed there, has himself made Viscount, and cuts all ties to the Chantry just as every Circle rebels in a similar manner he did, throwing the world into chaos, and ensuring the Divine could devote no resources to take back Kirkwall, ensuring his power is unchallenged. Anyone could have guessed as much."_

_Varric stared at the Seeker of Truth, then his face twisted into an expression of pure rage. "Unprovoked? Unprovoked! UNPROVOKED!" His voice was rising each time until his screaming at the top of his voice, and Cassandra knew she had been mistaken; Varric had never lost his temper through the entire interrogation. He had been obnoxious, sarcastic, and at times had flat out lied, but he had never been angry, let alone furious. Whatever the reason for Hawke's assault on the Gallows, it must have been truly reprehensible that it would elicit such a reaction from the normally carefree dwarf._

"_I see my preconceptions about the Champion's motives were incorrect," Cassandra commented, trying not to show the unease at what Varric had to say on the subject, knowing that whatever the dwarf was going to say, it was the absolute truth, and no exaggeration. "You can bet your dragon-slaying ass you're incorrect! Can you honestly say anyone would react differently to what the bitch had done to him?" Varric stopped, and then continued, looking as if he would be sick. "After sicing that bastard Alrik on poor Daisy, knowing full well what he would do to the poor girl, did you honestly expect anything less from the Dragon of Kirkwall?"_

"_Alrik?" Cassandra asked. "I thought you killed him while with the Abomination, Anders, looking for evidence of his "Tranquil Solution?" "As did we," Varric spat. "We were wrong. Just thinking about what that monster did to Merrill… I wish I could resurrect him, so I could nail his hands to a board and lower him into a pit of starving wolves, feet first. And I was just her friend. Can you even begin to imagine what Hawke felt? He loves the girl with all his heart." _

_Cassandra was beginning to feel slightly sick; she had always believed the in the integrity of all who served the Chantry, and had at first assumed that Varric's description of Ser Alrik's sadism as the exaggerations the dwarf was famous for. Judging by the shear hatred in Varric's voice, however, Alrik's atrocities were not among them. She didn't wish to hear what the dwarf had to say, but she had to; it was vital to understanding what had happened in Kirkwall in the last few years. _

"_Alright, Varric," the Seeker sighed. "Tell me what really happened." Varric nodded stiffly, crossed his arms, and began to talk. _


	2. Chapter 1

**Author's Note: Hey everyone! I am very grateful for all the reviews and subscriptions for my stories. I will do my best to regularly update both. However, as Christopher Paolini's book, Inheritance, is coming out, you all may not be seeing me for some time. Just a heads-up! Thanks again! **

Chapter 1

Meredith stormed off the boat and marched through the gates of the Gallows. She was enraged. First, Orsino had been stirring up dissent with his rebellious speech in Hightown, and then the so-called Champion of Kirkwall had walked in and made it clear he supported the first enchanter. Finally, rounding off the whole fiasco, Revered Mother Elthena came in, called her a "girl", offered Orsino no punishment other than sending him back to his office, and thanked the Champion for stepping in!

Fuming, Meredith climbed the last set of stairs, forced open the final door, and stomped over to her office door. Just as she was about to open it, however, she heard snickering behind her. Spinning around, she found the First Enchanter's office door open, and the elf was sitting at his desk, quaking with mirth. With a broad smile, asked innocently, "Are we having a bad day, Knight-Commander?" With the greatest measure of self-control she ever had to use, she turned from Orsino, opened the door to her office, stepped inside, and slammed it behind her.

Finally, in her sound proofed office, Meredith was at last permitted to scream with rage. Taking swipe out at a pile of reports, she upset the pile, and soon pages were flying everywhere. At last, reigning in her tantrum, she griped the edge of her desk, and began breathing deeply, until she calmed herself. All the while, she raked her brains for the culprit who had so undermined her authority. Orsino? No, the elf was an annoyance, nothing more. He did not have the resources or the political support to force any real change; he likely only started that speech in Hightown in order to have the Champion come to his aid. Elthina? Again, no. The Revered Mother had done nothing to interfere with her plans; in truth she had done nothing at all. She held the vain hope that the mages and templars would work out their problems over time. The women did not realize that the mages desire for power would never allow them to negotiate, and the templars had no choice but to lock them up, and end the threat they posed if they put even one toe out of line.

Then the answer to her problem come, like a angry dragon barreling down on her, and Meredith quickly found herself just as angry; Champion Garret Hawke.

The man had been a thorn in her side since the moment he stepped off the boat, fleeing the Blight in Fereldan. Working with the Red Iron mercenary group, he had led several missions that carried apostates out of the templar's reach. Later, when his time with glorified killers was over, while building up money for his for his now legendary Deep Roads, he had been responsible for numerous insurrections against the templars, the two most serious cases involving the boy Fenryal's escape to the Dalish elves, and later the Tevinter Imperium, the murder of the templars sent to bring him back, and tricking the templars sent to recapture the missing mages from the former Circle of Magi at Starkhaven, so that the apostates could escape, though Ser Kerras found them eventually. Unfortunately, Meredith had been unable to arrest him, as well as his compatriots, because they could never find absolute proof of their guilt. Eventually, after Garret went on his expedition, and was late coming back, Meredith had Knight-Captain Cullen arrest Hawke's sister Bethany, though it was a close thing; Hawke returned just as Cullen was leading the apostate away. Meredith had hoped that Hawke had died in the Roads, but, given how late he was returning, she assumed that it had failed, and that, having witnessed his sister's arrest, that he would cease troubling her.

But she was wrong. The expedition _had _succeeded, and soon, Hawke was one of the richest nobles in the entire city, and he was devoting his newfound wealth, station, and power towards a singular purpose: getting the templar order out of Kirkwall. Soon, Meredith found herself in a guerrilla war on all sides. Almost every patrol she sent to the Undercity failed to return alive, and those that did reported that they had been set upon by militias, mainly consisting of Fereldan refugees, with armor, weapons, and tactics that could not possibly have procured on their own. Yet, whenever Meredith sent down a larger force to end the rebellions, they melted back into the refugees already crowding the sewers.

Later, when word reached her ear that Hawke had taken a Dalish elf, apparently named Merrill, as his mistress, Meredith had not been concerned; her mission was to contain mages, not gossip about who the nobles of Kirkwall were sleeping with. Then, during the Qunari attack on the city, she had witnessed Garret, Merrill, the Grey Warden mage healer she had decided to tolerate for the Warden's sake, and Aveline Valen, Captain of the Guard, fighting their way through the heathen soldiers, and the elf was casting spells. Garret Hawkes infamous consort was an apostate. Meredith would have had the both of them executed on the spot, but she decided the Qunari were the greater threat, and joined forces with the group.

She had held her templars at the keep's gate, while Hawke and his companions fought their way into the keep to rescue the viscount. When they had arrived, however, Viscount Dumar was dead. Fortunately, another of Hawke's companions had slipped past her line in order to deliver some text that the beasts deemed sacred. The Qunari Arishock had demanded they take the thief back to their homeland for punishment, but Hawke had not allowed it, and the pair had fought in single combat. Hawke had somehow defeated the Arishock, and the remaining Qunari left without any further ado.

Meredith had been beyond enraged. Not only was Garret Hawke living and sleeping with an apostate, was responsible for the deaths of several dozen of her templars, and had organized armed rebellion against her order. He was fit for nothing more than the hangman's noose. Now, he stood on the corpse of a horned giant that dwarfed him both in height and brawn, had saved the entire city, and hardly looked as if he had broken a sweat. And Meredith had done to him the only thing that it was now in her power to do; declare him the Champion of Kirkwall.

And since then, his crusade against the templars of Kirkwall escalated. And no longer was he alone. Numerous nobles, it now seemed, eager to suck up to the new Champion, had thrown in with Hawke's guerrilla efforts. He also had the support of the city guard. In addition to being personal friends with Guard-Captain Valen, he had been crushing almost all organized crime alongside her templars. This, in combination with Meredith's efforts to take command of the guard in order to better keep order in the city, placed the Kirkwall Guard firmly in the Champion's pocket.

Now, the Champion had a coalition of the Guard, half of Kirkwall nobility, every single penniless Fereldan urchin, Varric Tethras's massive businesses, several apostate mage groups, and now he was reaching out to the Circle mages. He had acquired too much influence and power. _He _was the reason she could no longer maintain control over her holy mission. Meredith slammed her fist onto her desk. The heathen had the city by the genitals, and there was virtually nothing she could do within reason to cut away the tendrils he had sent into every nook and cranny of the City of Chains.

_It seems I must use desperate measures. _Meredith thought darkly. _I must strike at the Champion in a manner that will destroy him utterly in a single blow. But how? _ She could not simply have him killed; the entire city had, by any unofficial, unspoken and unanimous decision, given him the same reverence that the city usually gave Andraste. Nor could she strike at any of his comrades in arms; Varric was of good standing with the Dwarven Merchant's Guild, Aveline was the leader of the City Guard, whose popularity was at an all-time high; the healer, Anders, was a Grey Warden, meaning she would risk war with the order if she attacked him; Sebastian Veal was the heir to the throne of Starkhaven; the raider, Isabella, was as slippery as an eel, meaning she would never catch her; the Champion's sister, Bethany, was in the Kirkwall Circle, but according to the gossip she heard, Bethany and Orsino were paramours, and Orsino was clearly backed by the Champion; and the Tevinter elf, Fenris, was known both for taking on twenty armed men at once and emerging without a scratch, and for his loyalty to the Champion, who, despite their differing opinion on mages, had ensured Fenris's old master was dead, and the elf remained free.

Then the answer came to her. _Merrill_. The Champion's dalish plaything had no real standing, or support apart from Garret Hawke himself. She was just another elf in the Alienage. However, she had seen the way the two had looked at each other; the Champion clearly loved the apostate savage. _Perfect,_ Meredith purred; killing her would, for all intents and purposes, destroy Garret Hawke. Then, she had an even better idea; making the elf Tranquil. The Champion had, on numerous occasions, declared the Rite of Tranquility to be a fate worse than death, and all templars who performed it were, therefore, worse than murderers.

_Yes,_ Meredith hissed in her mind. _I will make your little whore Tranquil, Champion. Then, you will see the cost of turning your back on the Maker._ _And I know just who to put in charge of this mission._ Meredith then sat at her desk, took a piece of parchment, her ink, and a pen, and wrote out a message to one of her most loyal templars.

_Dear Ser Alrik,_

_ The Champion of Kirkwall has, as you may or may not be aware, has again denounced our order, declaring that we are the worst sort of scum, and that the mages of the Circle should be free to live their lives as they see fit. This man has crossed the final line of sedition; his rebelliousness can no longer be tolerated._

_I know your service to the Order, Alrik; you have always been one of best here at Kirkwall. You have always done what has needed to be done. I know that you will what is needed now. _

_As everyone knows, the Champion has taken a Dalish apostate, Merrill, as his paramour. While she spends her nights with the Champion, during the day she is known to frequent her home in the alienage. _

_Your orders are this; take 2 templars, and, under cover of darkness, enter her home, and wait for her arrival. When she comes, perform the rite of tranquility on her, and remove her to the Gallows. _

_The Champion must be shown what happens to the enemies of the templars. He must never question our power or our divine mission again. _

_Go, and may the Maker grant that your mission is successful._

_Knight-Commander Meredith_

Finishing her letter, Meredith rang the bell that called her Tranquil assistant, Elsa, and ordered her to take the letter to Ser Alrik. After that was done, she sat at her desk, and, for the first time in weeks, smiled.

By this time tomorrow, the Champion would no longer be an issue.

**15 minutes later…..**

Ser Alrik placed the Knight-Commander's note in a pouch on his belt, smiling in a manner that would have even the bravest man running for the hills. Meredith did not know it, but the elf she had ordered him to make tranquil was the reason why he had almost been killed three years ago.

He had been about to administer the Rite on a young girl fleeing the Circle, when he came under attack by Garret Hawke, an abomination, a crossbow wielding dwarf, and the innocent-looking Merrill. Alrik had been knocked down from one of Hawke's blows, but had gotten up, and saw that Garret had his back to him, fighting another templar, and Alrik had tried to stab him from behind. But his sword had been blocked by the elf's staff, and for a lithe, petite, sweet looking girl, it was alarming how much she resembled an angry dragon. Then, she had conjured a Stonefist spell that had struck Alrik in the temple, knocking him unconscious.

For years he had awaited his chance at revenge, and now it was here.

_Oh, I will make the elf tranquil, Meredith, _Alrik thought darkly. _But first, I will break, and have my way with, her. Oh, this is going to be fun. _Chuckling darkly, Alrik found two templars, who were almost as sick and twisted as he was, and informed them of their holy mission.


	3. Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Champion Garret Hawke opened the door to his mansion, stepped inside, and closed the door, his arms laden with packages; he had just returned from Hightown's market for his weekly grocery shopping, an outing that had caused him far more annoyance than it should have. Everywhere he went, he had been dogged by people, nobles trying to get him to attend some party, or try to engage him to one of their daughters, even though he had made it very plain that his heart belonged to Merrill, or someone whose merchant caravan's were being attacked by bandits, or people who just wanted to talk with the might Garret Hawke. Granted, all of this had been happening to him since he became a noble, but ever since he had led the effort to stop the Qunari attack, it had gotten worse.

He turned into the kitchen, wherein his elven servant, Orana, was preparing lunch. Hearing his approach, she smiled timidly, and said, "Greetings, mas- I mean Messer Hawke." "Hello, Orana," Hawke replied. "I just took a trip to the market to restock the pantry; pay me no mind." Orana suddenly looked horrified. "I'm so sorry, Master Hawke! I had no idea that we were running out of food! Please, don't hurt me!" "Orana," Hawke cut her off. "It is of no consequence; I needed to get out and about anyway. And what did I say about calling me "Master"? You are not a slave anymore; you don't have to call anyone that, and I don't wish for you to call me that." Orana blushed, muttered an apology, and returned to work.

Hawke then deposited the foodstuffs, and left the kitchen, smiling. He had first encountered Orana in an old Tevinter slave-holding den, when he and Fenris had gone after the elf's old master's apprentice, Hadrianna. She had just witnessed her entire family bled dry for the Tevinter mage's spells, and was in a complete panic. Taking pity on her, Hawke had given her directionsto his mansion, and hired her as a servant, setting her free. However, she still was not used to no longer being owned by someone, and Hawke had struggled to break these habits, such as her calling him Master; just the thought that she believed he _owned_ her made him feel unclean. Lately, she had been getting better, but whenever she felt she had done something wrong (which was often) she reverted back to her old ways.

His mood now soured again, he returned to the most irksome trial so far today; his confrontation with Meredith. Orsino had been giving a speech to the nobles, trying to turn them against Meredith. When the Knight Commander actually reared her ugly head, however, Hawke had immediately stepped in, trying to ensure the First Enchanter did not lose head. The rivals had immediately started butting heads over the mage- templar issue. Hawke had stood back and let the two go at it, lending support to Orsino whenever it seemed it was needed, undermining Meredith's arguments wherever he could, until Grand Cleric Elthina had stepped in and ended the fight, claiming the two needed more time to work out their differences.

_More time, bah,_ Garret thought. _Elthina's heart is in the right place, but her head is in the clouds. It has been seven years since the tensions between templars and mages began, and in that time it has only gotten worse. Someone needs to put their foot down. And more and more, it looks like I will have to be the one to do it. _Hawke would rather not be the one to put an end to the conflict, however. He was the Champion of the city, but he held little real political power, and he did not want it. If he made a move to become Viscount, he would certainly succeed, but that would mean that he would have to spend even more time with the city's so called nobility, almost all of whom were self-serving, petty, and were only interested in securing their own person power and comforts at the expense of the city as a whole. The streets were filled with the poor, elves, Free Marchers, and Fereldans alike, and yet nothing was done for them. And then there were the templars. Hawke, having grown up in an apostate family, had been taught to distrust the templars, but after his sister Bethany had been taken to the Gallows, distrust turned to hatred. Thus, when his life as a noble began, he had devoted almost all his resources to the destruction of the Order within Krikwall. True, he had a number of businesses and partnerships in various markets, but the bulk of his economic fiefdom was nothing more than a front to help mages fleeing the circle escape, while at the same time cracking down on the Order, as well as the two largest crime syndicates in Kirkwall, the Cotorie, and the Carta. It had been remarkably successful on all fronts.

Now, however, Garret was worried. He had heard rumors that Meredith was losing her mind, and after seeing her today, he believed that these were more than just rumors. He feared that soon the Knight –Commander was about to do something drastic, and for all the time he spent wracking his brain for a solution, the only thing he could think to do was to bide his time, gather his resources, and see what happened next.

Climbing to the top of the stairs, he immediately saw a sight that made him forget all his troubles, leaving him perfectly happy.

Merrill was standing a short distance away, looking out the window. She was garbed in the Siverite armor Hawke had commissioned for her, with her old chainmail underneath. She was bathed in the golden rays of the setting sun coming through the window, causing her armor, skin, and enormous emerald eyes to shine. It was the most beautiful sight Hawke had ever seen and he stopped in his tracks and began trying to recall what he had done to deserve the love of such a wonderful being such as this.

"Hightown is such a strange place," Merrill suddenly said, jogging Hawke out of his daydreams. He was about to reply, when Merrill continued speaking, apparently unaware of his presence. "It feels like its miles away from everywhere else. The Alienage, Sundermount, Fereldan; those could all be from a dream." Smiling, Hawke walked up to her, and put his arms around her, causing the elf to jump in surprise. "Oh, Ma Vhenan, I didn't see you there," she breathed, before turning around and kissing him on both cheeks.

She paused, and then said, "I'm going to my house in the alienage; I'll likely by gone all day." Hawke frowned. "Merrill," he said, "why don't you just move your things in here? Are you not comfortable living with me?" "No, no," Merrill babbled, "It's just…..some things need to stay away from this house." Hawke immediately knew what "some things" meant; the Eluvian. It was a magical mirror that dated back to the ancient elven empire that had been destroyed and enslaved by the Tevinter Imperium. The mirror had been badly damaged, however, and could not be repaired by normal means. So, Merrill had made a pact with a demon, and had learned blood magic, a very powerful, but forbidden, arcane technique that used blood (whose blood was used didn't matter) to power spells. It had allowed Merrill to partially repair the eluvian, but blood mages were ruthlessly hunted down and killed by the Templars, and were constantly influenced by demons. In all his time at Kirkwall, Merrill was the only such mage that had retained any sense of morality, or injured others to fuel her spells. This mattered little to the Templar Order, however; if they ever found out she was a blood mage, not even his title would protect her.

"Alright, love. But please be careful. I have lost my brother to the darkspawn, my sister to the templars, and I almost lost my mother to an insane necromancer; I can't afford to lose you." His blood ran cold just thinking about the last case; there had been a killer on the loose in Kirkwall a few years ago, by the name of Quentin, and his mother, Leandra Hawke, had, unknowingly, been dating him. One night, when Hawke had returned late, he was informed by Bodayn that his mother had left to see Quentin, whose identity she had not disclosed with Hawke, and pointed out the vase of white lilies that he had sent her, the murderer's signature calling card. Panicking, Hawke had raced through the streets of Kirkwall after her, catching up with the couple in Lowtown. After revealing what Quentin was, the blood mage had smilled, slit his wrist, and summoned half-a-dozen shade demons, who attacked Garret, and conjured a magical shield around his body. Fortunately, Hawke held several abilities that evened the scales; he had both the holy powers of the Templars, and the completely unholy powers of dragon blood-infused Reaver, at his disposal, and could wield the abilities in perfect tandem with each other. When all was said and done, the Demons were banished back to the Fade, Quentin had holes where his head and arms were supposed to be, and Garret was leading his shocked, sobbing mother bake to his estate.

Merrill paused, then said, "Don't worry, ma vhenan; I'll be fine." She broke out of his embrace, and began walking toward the stairs, then paused, and said, "Back before dark; I promise." Then, she walked down the stairway, and out the door. Hawke didn't move for several minutes, until he heard Leandra speak behind her. "You know, you two are almost exactly like your father, Malcolm, and I used to be at your age." "Yes," Garret muttered. "Except father didn't make a pact with a demon, and had the sense to stay far away from... How did the Arishock put it? Ah yes, this Pustule of a city." Leandra smiled, and said, "You two would never have met otherwise." Garret sighed. "You're right, Mother, as usual." Leandra's smile grew. "Everything will turn out fine, love; you'll see." She then walked down the stairs, and left the mansion as well, going to see some of her friends. Hawke sighed, and hoped she was right.

Several more minutes passed, and then Garret heard the door open, and a familiar voice call, "Hawke, are you in?" Hawke smiled, then called back, "Hello, Anders! What brings you here?" The mage healer stepped into the main room, looking nervous. _Uh oh_, Hawke thought. Anders was, for lack of a better term, and abomination; he was possessed by a spirit of Justice that had been warped by his anger, and had become a demon of Vengeance. Anders was constantly battling to control the spirit, and in recent years, it was clear he was losing. Therefore, anything that made Anders nervous was worthy of his full attention.

"I'm going to be trying something, and I thought you would like to be part of it." He paused then continued. "What I've done with Justice is unnatural; I have been researching methods to separate the two of us without harming either, and I believe that I've found a potion that will do the job. I have most of what I need, but there are some…. Outlandish ingredients that I need help procuring." "Alright, Anders, I'll help you. But first let's get Fenris and Sebastian to help." "Why them?" Anders demanded. The mage was not on good terms with either of terms with either of them; Fenris, because the former slaves hated all mages for being mages, and Sebastian because of his unwavering support for the Chantry that imprisoned his people. Hawke held similar opinions to Anders, but the feelings were nowhere near as strong.

"Because, they don't like you because you are an Abomination, and would stop at nothing to ensure that any attempt to change that succeeded." Anders thought about it, and then nodded. "Alright, then; let's go find them."

**20 minutes later….**

Merrill walked down the stairs that led from the main part of Lowtown to the Elven Alienage. She hated that she kept upsetting Garret by not moving in with him; in truth, she wanted to do that more than anything. But she could not put him, Leandra, Orana, Bodahn, and Sandle at risk with her work on the Eluvian. It broke her heart, but it had to be done.

As she entered the Alienage, everyone made a point of ignoring her. Despite her perkiness, everyone in the Alienage had the (correct) suspicion that she was up to something dangerous.

Ignoring the others as much as they were ignoring her, she went to her house, unlocked the door, stepped inside and closed it again.

Then immediately, she felt all her mana drain away.

_OH NO!_ she thought _TEMPLARS!_ She turned, reaching for her staff to use as a melee weapon, but the armored warriors were on top of her had had taken hold of her arms before she could move. She struggled, trying to break free, then stopped as she felt a massive punch strike her across the jaw. Spitting blood, she looked at her attacker, and froze.

It was Ser Alrik.

"You?" she managed to speak out. The templar grinned evilly. "Yes, mage. Me." He punched her again, this time in the gut. "I have been waiting for this moment for three years. I will enjoy breaking you, mage." Merrill saw him loosen the straps of his lower armor, and horror filled her as she knew what Alrik was going to do to her. Then, she felt enormous determination; she would not let Alrik break her. No matter what he did, she would not submit to the Templars, or beg for mercy.

She owed Hawke that much.

**While I am sure it is the least of your concerns at the moment, I let Leandra live because if I am resurrecting a villain, I would resurrect a good character as well. **


	4. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Isabella and Varric were running towards Hawke's mansion as fast as their legs could carry them. Not 5 minutes ago, Varric had learned from one of the men he had hired to keep an eye on Merrill to ensure that she didn't get herself in trouble had had just reported something horrifying to his employer; three templars had taken Merrill hostage in her own home, one of whom was a man they had thought dead, the bastard Ser Alrik. As soon as he heard this news, he had immediately gone to Isabella, who had been spending most of the day drinking herself into a stupor. As soon as Varric told her what the templars were doing to Merrill, or Kitten as Isabella called her, however, the former pirate queen had sobered up almost immediately.

They knew, however, that the two of them were not a match for three templars; they needed Hawke's help. And thus, they sprinted through Lowtown and up the stairs to Hightown as if wolves were chasing them.

Already, Varric was winded. He was filled with adrenaline, but he had very short legs, and was denser than most living things were, and thus was not meant for running long distances up steep stairways without pause.

For the thousandth time in the last 5 minutes, he cursed the fact that he was a dwarf.

Isabella, however, while also showing signs of fatigue, was built for speed, and was holding up much better. She was almost at the top of the stairway they were climbing, while Varric was only three quarters of the way up.

Suddenly, Varric lost his footing, and fell to the bottom of the stairs. He landed on his back, and felt a massive crack. He groaned. He himself was unharmed, but it was clear that his crossbow, Bianca, had suffered serious damage.

"Varric!" Isabella shouted from the top of the stairs. "I'm fine!" Varric yelled. "Forget me! Get Hawke! Go!" Isabella needed no further motivation; she turned and sprinted into Hightown.

Varric came into a sitting position with a grunt, and then took his beloved crossbow off his back, and inspected her from bayonet tip to butt. To his relief, the only damage he saw was to the wooden stock, and the crossbow was still functional.

Knowing it would be useless to try to go to Hawke, as Isabella would undoubtedly get there first, he instead headed towards the Viscount's Keep to get Aveline and inform her about the situation. As much as he wanted to help get Merrill away from the Templars, he was forced to acknowledge that there was nothing more her could do, and the rest was up to Isabella and Hawke.

It was, as Sebastian the Choir Boy would say, in the Maker's hands.

"Alright, let me get this straight, Anders," Hawke said, holding up his hands. "In order for you and Justice to be separated, you have to drink a potion that contains, among other things, dried dragon dung, and crystallized human waste?" "That is correct, Garret." Anders's face suggested that he was not too happy about it either. "Perhaps being an abomination would be somewhat preferable," Sebastian muttered, testing the string of his grandfather's bow, which Hawke had found among the mercenaries who had murdered the former Chantry brother's family. Fenris said nothing, and merely glared at Anders with disgust and hatred.

Hawke understood why Fenris hated all mages, as he had been enslaved by one, and why he believed that all mages would eventually give in to a demon's temptations, as every mage around him had done so. But understanding did not mean support; Garret had spent his whole life living with his father and sister, both of whom had magic, and never once had either of them showed even the _inclination_ to deal with demons.

Still, after the confrontation with Fenris's old master, Denarious, which had ended with the lyrium-infused elf ripping the magister's heart out, he and Garret had had _another_ argument about magic and those who practiced it. Eventually, Hawke had convinced the warrior that his hatred of mages was ruining his life, and that until he let go of it, he would never be free of Denarious. Since then, Hawke had seen Fenris make a concerted effort to see the person wielding the magic, not the magic itself.

Of course, Anders, as a possessed mage, still rankled with Fenris; hence, his glare.

With a sigh, Hawke rose from his chair, his armor clinking. Garret had received this armor at the Champion's Banquet, held to celebrate his rise to the title. It was the only thing Hawke had liked about the ceremony. The helm was shaped reminiscent of a bird's beak, with a mail coif to protect his neck. On his chest, arms, back, and legs were chainmail, than over that were plates made of blackened steel, and were angled so as to send blows glancing off him. It was also covered with nasty-looking spikes, which were both intimidating, and further served to catch and deflect blades.

"Alright, everyone, let's get to it. We should go to the sewers first; I'd like to get that out of the w-"

_CRASH!_

Spinning around, he saw Isabella stumble through the door, and knew immediately that something was wrong. The former pirate was drenched in sweat, her handkerchief that was usually wrapped around her head was hanging from one ear, her hair was a chaotic mess, and her eyes were filled with terror.

"Isabella," Hawke cried, "What is it? What's wrong?" Isabella bent over, trying to catch her breath, then gasped, "Merrill…Templars…_Alrik_!" Hawke's heart stopped, and then started pumping at three times normal speed.

"Where!" he shouted. "Merrill's house…Hurry!" Hawke immediately sprinted out the door, and judging by the sounds of footfalls behind him, Anders, Sebastian, and Fenris were coming with him.

Hawke was the largest, most muscular, and most heavily armored of the group, and yet none of his companions could come close to his speed; they were beginning to fall behind. But Garret didn't care; he had to reach Merrill, and her had to kill the templars before they killed her or-

_Don't even think about it! _Hawke shrieked in his own mind.

Even as fast as he was going, it still took almost 4 minutes for Hawke to reach the Alienage. He immediately flew to Merrill's door, knocking two elves to the ground as he did so. Ignoring them, he ran up to Merrill's house, from which emanated a sinister chuckle. Hawke braced himself, and then kicked the door in.

**Approximately one minute earlier…..**

Merrill felt herself being thrown to the ground, sticking the hard floor with her jaw. Several of her teeth popped loose, and rolled around by her head.

It had only been 15 or 20 minutes hours since she had first entered her house, but it seemed like an eternity. Alrik and his fellow templars had beaten her, whipped her, raped her, and poured brine over her many injuries**.** They forced her to drink all sorts of foul concoctions, and then made her vomit them back up, and lick them off the ground. She was covered head to toe in lacerations and bruises, several of her bones were broken, her left eye was swollen shut, and the clothing under her armor-which had been ripped off and scattered about- was ripped to shreds.

Still, she had not let them break her. She had not screamed in pain, begged for mercy, or called for help. She would not go to the spirits of her ancestors and tell them that she had been weak in the face of torture and hatred.

Suddenly, she felt the two templars that Alrik had brought with him grab her by the shoulders, and force her on her knees, keeping a firm hold on her in case she tried to run. Exhausted by the ordeal, Merrill, groggily raised her head, and opened her right eye.

Alrik stood in front of her, with his back to her. He had put his lower armor back on, so he had something planned for her other than raping her. _Oh, what could he possibly be doing now?_ Merrill thought. It was not so much fear she felt, as exasperation; how many horrible things could the man possible think of?

Then Alrik turned, and he smiled the most sadistic, cruel smile the dalish elf had ever seen. And in his hands was a lyrium-infused branding iron. The end of the iron was in the shape of the sun, the symbol of the Chantry.

Terror, sheer, unadulterated terror, finally hit Merrill. _Creators,_ she begged, _not that; anything but that! _Her mind screamed at her legs to run, at her arms to try and break away from her captors, but fear kept her rooted in place; she could not make herself move.

Chuckling horribly, Alrik slowly walked toward her, deliberately prolonging her torture. When he was within arm's reach, he slowly moved the brand toward her forehead. Instinctively, Merrill moved her head away from the horrid instrument.

When the brand was just a half-inch away from her forehead, she heard a massive crash, and then a roar of fury and pain so load that she thought she might go deaf. Suddenly, and stream of bright golden flames shot into her vision, and engulfed Alrik's hand and forearm. Merrill could feel the heat on her face. She also heard Alrik scream and drop the brand, fumbling with the clasps on the armor of his gauntlets and bracers, trying to take the now red-hot armor off.

Merrill, overwhelmed, finally passed out.

Hawke kicked the door in, and was presented with a scene pulled straight from his worst nightmares; Merrill was on her knees, beaten, bloodied, clothes torn, with pure fear in her eyes as two templars held her down, while another, Ser Alrik, held the brand for the Right of Tranquility less than an inch away from his love's forehead. Without his conscious thought, he let out an enraged battle roar.

Then, something happened that no one could have predicted.

As Hawke screamed, he felt some sort of gelled liquid shoot up his esophagus, starting at his navel, and shoot out of his mouth. As soon as the substance made contact with the air outside his mouth, it burst into flame, and shot straight at Alrik's arm in a stream. Yelping in surprise and pain, the templar dropped the brand, and backed away, trying to relieve himself of the super-heated armor. The remaining two templars looked at Hawke, then let go of Merrill, who fell to the floor, and reached for their blades.

Hawke, who already had his sword, The Celebrante, in his hand, lashed out at the closer templar, and cut through his armor and his body in one blow. The blade was enchanted to unleash pure fade energy on whoever was struck by the blade, something that he had found that templars were alarmingly venerable to. The bisected "holy" warrior fell to the floor, first the top half, then the bottom.

By then, the second of Alrik's accomplices had his blade in hand, and stepped forward, delivering an over head chop. Hawke simply sidestepped the blow, and the sword buried itself in the ground next to him. Garret then grabbed the templar by the neck, and lifted him two feet in the air, and, using his Reaver abilities, drained the life forces from his captive until all that was left was dead, desiccated husk in templar armor.

Dropping the mummy, Hawke turned to Alrik, who was trying to draw his sword with his off-hand. Stepping over to him, he chopped off the tormentor's arms, grabbed him by the collar of his breastplate, and shoved him against the wall. Vaguely, he was aware of Anders, Fenris, and Sebastian entering the hovel.

Pressing his face into the templar's, Hawke expected to see fear, or anger, but none were to be found on Alrik's face. All that Garret could find was a look of perverse satisfaction, and he laughed at Hawke's pain.

Again, Hawke roared, and again, flames spewed from his open maw. Some of the fuel stuck to Alrik's face, and burned there, but the majority of it went straight into Alrik's own mouth, and down his throat, cooking him from the inside-out. Hawke let the excuse for a human fall to the ground, gasping for air that his incinerated lungs could no longer process.

Hawke turned back to the doorway, and saw Fenris and Sebastian staring at him with their jaws on the floor. Garret's attention, however, was focused on the small, horribly mangled elf laying on the floor, over whom Anders knelt, his hands glowing with healing magic.

"MERRILL!" Hawke screamed so loud, he thought he might destroy his own hearing, as he sprinted toward his love's prone form, and grabbed her by the shoulders. "MERRILL! Wake up! Say something, Ma Vhenan!" Hawke didn't even know what "ma vhenan" meant, and had a sickening sensation that Merrill might not ever be able to tell him.

"Damn it, Garret, MOVE!" Anders shouted, shoving him to the side. "I can't heal her with your armor's spikes jabbing me in the eyes!" After that, Hawke backed off, but he still held one of her small hands in his.

"Anders…." Hawke asked, tears streaming down his face. "Is she…..Is she…." He could not bring himself to say it.

"She's not Tranquil, Hawke," Anders said, working on mending Merrill's most serious injuries, "but she is not a happy camper."

Hawke was relieved that the love of his life had not been stripped of her mind, but then fear returned as he beheld the extent of her injuries. But this fear was not as deep rooted; Anders, the best healer in a hundred miles, was already working on her. If anyone could heal Merrill, it was him. Looking up, Hawke gasped.

The Eluvian had been destroyed.

The frame was intact, but the glass had been smashed, and, by the looks of the footprints in the white powder, been ground into dust underfoot. Even Hawke knew that the mirror was beyond magical repair, even blood magic. At any other time, Hawke would have been relieved, as it meant that Merrill would be safe from the dangerous artifact, but now it only made him angry; it was just another horrible thing these...monsters had done to her.

After a few minutes Anders cut the flow of magic, and said, "I've healed everything life-threatening, but she is still pretty banged up. We need to get her to my clinic, now."

"No," Hawke snapped, "We take her to my mansion; if Meredith is going after the mages I know, than you are next on the list, Anders."

"Hawke," Sebastian said, speaking for the first time. "You can't carry her through the streets; the entire city would know what happened then." "I know," Hawke replied. "We're going through the Undercity; there's an entrance not far from here. We'll enter through the cellar entrance, and Anders can pick up some things from his clinic."

Everyone nodded, then Hawke picked up Merrill, and the group exited the hovel. The Alienage was deserted; after they had heard the fighting, all the elves fled to their homes, and barricaded themselves in. Hawke and his companions left at a brisk pace, Fenris in front, then Anders and Hawke, holding his unconscious love in his arms, with Sebastian bringing up the rear, his bow drawn, and an arrow knocked.

"I'm sorry," Hawke whispered to the passed out elf in his arms. "I'm so sorry, Merrill. I should have known that Meredith would try this; I'm so sorry, Ma Vhenan."

**For those of you who don't know, "Ma Vhenan" is elvish for "my heart". **


	5. Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Fenris, Sebastian, Hawke (carrying Merrill), and Anders, raced through the sewers and passageways that made up the area of Kirkwall known as the Undercity as fast as they could without slipping and falling on the mud-garbage-sewage sludge that seemed to coat every inch of the place. Hawke looked down at his unconscious lover for the umpteenth time in the last few minutes. Merrill didn't seem to be worsening, but she hadn't woken up yet, either.

Rounding a corner, they came to a small stall, where Tomwise, an elf, sold poisons and grenades. Since leaving the Red Iron, Hawke had been one of his best costumers, and, after Garret had become a noble, Tomwise became one of his informants, and supplied the guerrilla fighters with his goods.

Looking up, the elf spotted Hawke's group, and immediately smiled. "Hawke! It's good to see you! What can I- Andraste's ass!" he exclaimed, spotting Merrill's abused form in the Champion's arms. Looking at Hawke, he asked, "What happened?"

"There's no time to explain, Tomwise." Garret paused, then said, "Tom, I need you to send out a message to all the resistance cells. Tell the ones in the Alienage to pack up all of Merrill's things, and get them to my mansion in as discrete a manor as possible. The others…" Hawke paused, then continued in a dangerously low voice. "Tell the others that any Templar that comes anywhere near them is to be killed."Tomwise nodded. "I'll send out the messages immediately." He knew that Merrill was a mage, but Hawke had always done his best to improve the lot of the Undercity's residents; as bad as things were down here, it had been worse until Hawke came along. If he wanted some Templars dead, than the templars would die.

"Thank you, Tomwise." The champion then led his group further on into the bowels of the city. It wasn't long until they reached the basement entrance of Hawke's mansion. Anders's clinic, as fate would have it, was barely fifteen feet from the door. "Wait here," the possessed healer ordered. "I'll be back as soon as I have what I need." He turned and entered his makeshift hospital, while the rest of them set up a perimeter; Fenris stood at the top of the nearby staircase, with Sebastion back and to the right, bow trained on the alleyway in front of them. Hawke lowered Merrill to the ground in the alcove of the entrance to his home, and then went to stand by Fenris.

Several minutes passed, than, Hawke's anger grew again as another thought accrued to him, specifically in regards to the warrior elf next to him. "Well, Fenris." The Champion snapped. Genuine confusion clouded Fenris's features. "Well, what?" he asked. "Don't you have some snide remark to make about Merrill? Aren't you going to comment that she's evil to the core, that she is one step away from becoming an abomination, and that she's finally getting what she deserves?" Fenris looked at him frankly, and then asked "Will you strangle me if I do?" Hawke nodded. "Then I have no snide remarks or comments."

Just then, Anders came out of his clinic, his arms laden with bandages, splints, ointments, and healing and lyrium potions. "I've got what I need," the overburdened mage said, "But one of you is going to have to get the doors for me." Nodding, Garrent sheathed his blade, jogged over to Merrill, picked her up in one arm, pulled out his key with the other, unlocked the door, and the group proceeded inside. The last to enter was Sebastian, bow still drawn, eyes scanning for any threat. Then, the door was closed and barred from the inside.

Hawke walked up the stairs that led from the cellar to the kitchen, which was occupied by Oranna, who was cleaning up the lunch that Hawke had not eaten on account of barraging out earlier. Looking over, she saw Hawke come out with what looked somewhat like Merrill in his arms, and covered her mouth in shock. "Oranna, I want you to heat some water, now." Hawke said. Oranna nodded, and then hurried to follow instructions, stacking more wood on the fire, and grabbing a bucket to draw water from the well.

Hawke and his companions continued out of the kitchen, and into the main room of the mansion, where they found not only Isabella, Bohdan and Sandle, but also Varric, Aveline, and Aveline's husband, Donnic. Upon seeing them, everyone rushed over to Hawke, and they all started speaking at once. Hawke, whose nerves were fried, could not concentrate, and eventually shouted at them all to shut up, and speak one at a time.

Aveline was the first to speak. "Who did this, Hawke?" Fury burned in her eyes, and Hawke knew she would stop at nothing to find Merrill's attackers. That is, she would if they weren't already dead.

"It was the Templars." Garret replied, voice ringing with rage. "Specifically, the lowlife, son-of-a-bitch Alrik that we encountered before; apparently he wasn't as dead as we thought. He was trying to make Merrill Tranquil, but he decided to have some "fun" first. Thankfully, Sebastian, Fenris, Anders and I were able to stop him before he could do so."

With that, Hawke started up the stairs that lead to the second story of the house. Behind him, he heard Aveline whisper, "Oh, Wesley, what would you say at what your order has become." Hawke frowned; Wesley, Aveline's first husband, had been a Templar, though from the brief time Hawke had known him, he seemed that he had been a good man.

He entered his room, and laid Merrill on the bed. Anders came in after him, set his supplies on the end table, and immediately set to work healing and bandaging the elf. "Hawke, stay if you must, but please don't interfere," Anders said. "If you try to get involved with the healing process, you'll only cause her harm." Hawke nodded, and then turned to his companions, who were clustered outside the door, with varying looks on their faces; Sebastian, with his head bent, appeared to be praying; Varric looked as though he was going to be sick; Aveline and Donnic's faces were both twisted in anger; Isabella, in what had to be a first, was crying her eyes out; Fenris's face was a blank mask.

Hawke cleared his throat, and then said, "Sebastian." The former Chantry brother looked up. "I wonder if you would be good enough to find my mother, and bring her home, before Meredith decides to fry her brain also." Sebastian nodded, and then left. Hawke turned around, sighed, and then walked over to the bed, and held Merrill's hand as Anders started wrapping bandages around her swollen eye.

By the time Anders had finished the last of his doctoring, it was dusk. In that time, Sebastian had returned with Leandra, who had reacted to what had happened by running over to her son, and crushing his ribs, his freedom fighters had moved all of Merrill's possessions that the templars hadn't destroyed, into Hawke's home, and whipped out three Templar patrols, and Hawke had initiated CODE RED; he had all of his companions (apart from Sebastian, Aveline, and Donnic) take up residence in the guest rooms of his house; he had long ago planned in case Meredith decided to attack him or his friends, and had planned accordingly.

In that time, Hawke had not left Merrill's side. Now that Ander's was finished with Merrill, however, he insisted on giving Hawke a check-up, which confused Hawke to no end; he had not been injured, and he felt fine.

"Look, Hawke," Anders said, raising his voice, "I don't care what you say, you breathing fire is not conducive to your health; now let me examine you." At this, Hawke gave up, and allowed himself to be examined.

"What do you mean, 'breath fire'?" Leandra asked, confusion evident. Hawke sighed, and replied, "I shouted at the Templars, and fire came out of my mouth. With Merrill on the ground, bleeding, finding out why was not my first priority."

Anders ran his glowing hands up and down Hawke's chest and back for several minutes, before straightening up, with a look of bewilderment. He paused, and then said, "Alright Hawke, I have no idea how, but you appear to have grown a dragon's fire gland in the space just over your heart, right beneath the branch in you trachea, only now, it has three branches instead of two. You have also developed two valves that keep the fuel from entering your lungs when you're spewing flames everywhere. How you got this particular abnormality, however, is beyond me. It cannot be a natural mutation, it is too well developed, and I don't see how you could have a body part that is exclusive to another species." 

Hawke thought about it, and then said, "It has to be my Reaver abilities; when I got these abilities, I had to drink dragon blood; that is the only thing that makes sense. The reason we didn't expect this is that Reaver abilities are hard to study, as most such warriors are dragon-worshiping, killing-crazed lunatics."

A soft moan emanated from the bed behind them, and Hawke immediately turned around and sprinted to Merrill's side, just as his love began to open her eyes. "Merrill," Hawke whispered tentatively. "Can you hear me, Ma Vhenan." Opening her eyes, Merrill focused on Hawke's, and whispered, "Templars…" "Don't worry Merrill," Hawke reassured her. "Your safe; I killed the Templars, and your safe, you're at my house." "They didn't break me." Merrill looked at him with a pleading look in her eyes. "I didn't let them win; I didn't give them what they wanted." "Good, Merrill. I'm proud of you." And he was; anyone who could go through that without giving in had enormous strength, strength Hawke suspected even he didn't have.

Suddenly, fear entered Merrill's eyes again. "Hawke, the Eluvian…." Hawke sighed, and lowered his head. "They destroyed it, Merrill; they smashed the glass, and they ground it up into dust. It is beyond even magical repair. I'm so sorry Merrill." With that, Merrill's eyes watered up, and she began crying. Hawke held her to his chest, stroking her hair, as Isabella came in the room and put a hand on her shoulder. After a few minutes, Garret saw something out of the corner of his eye, and turned to see Anders going through the papers on Hawke's Endtable, and seemed to be adding a sheet to the pile.

"Anders!" Hawke snapped, causing the mage, Merrill, and Isabella to jump in surprise. "Put that Maker-forsaken manifesto back into your pocket, or I will find somewhere else to put it." Anders backed away from the table, with a paper containing his list of arguments against the Templars in one hand, looking embarrassed. "No one actually reads those, you know," Isabella commented. "I've seen people at the Hanged Man use it as a replacement for toilet tissue." Anders appeared horrified. "You mean that, after all the effort I put into making these things, people have been using it to _wipe themselves!_"

"Not everyone," Merrill commented, drawing the looks of everyone in the room. "I use them to make paper animals. See?" She pointed to the mantle, where, sure enough, several dozen animals, made of folded manifesto, stood. Struck by inspiration, Hawke said, "Love, why don't you make one now." Merrill blushed slightly. "Oh, no, Hawke, I don't think you want to watch me make paper animals." "No Merrill, I do. Anders, give her the manifesto." Anders looked like he wasn't going to do it, but with a look from Hawke, he crossed the room, and handed the paper to Merrill, who began folding the paper while everyone looked on.

Hawke hoped that, by giving her something she enjoyed doing, it would help her keep from dwelling on her ordeal.

After a few minutes, Merrill held up a paper swan in her cupped hands. Then, gathering up what little of her mana had regenerated since having it drained, she sent the paper bird flying up to the mantle, by means of changing the air pressure above and below its wings. It landed next to its fellows, and everyone in the room gave a little round of applause.

Blushing again, Merrill's eyelids drooped, and she said, "Ma Vhenan, I feel sleepy; can I nod off for awhile?" "Of course, Merrill. Mother, can you keep an eye on Merrill for me; I need to speak to my partners in crime." "Of course, love." Leandra replied, with a sad smile.

Merrill laid down on the soft mattress, and Hawke pulled the covers over her, kissing her on the forehead. Merrill sighed, closed her eyes, and feel asleep almost immediately. Hawke, Bohdan, Sandle, Oranna, Sebastian, Fenris, Anders, Isabella, Varric, Aveline, and Donnic all filed out of the room, and Hawke closed the door behind them. He breathed a sigh of relief; Alrik and his conspirators were dead, Merrill was not Tranquil, and she was safe in their bed. There was nothing he needed to worry about.

Which left him able to concentrate on his other emotion; RAGE!

His face twisted with fury, he turned to his friends and employees, all of whom flinched; none of them had ever seen Hawke this angry.

Bohdan, Sandle, and Oranna, start making dinner; the rest of you, in the cellar. NOW.

**And now, with the rescue mission out of the way, our rag-tag band of adventurers begins a chain of events that will change Thedas forever.**


	6. Chapter 5

Chapter 5

Hawke led the way into the lowest levels of the mansion, slamming the doors open with such force that some of them cracked, or broke off of their hinges. With each step, his anger grew, until he was sure that he had to burst into flames; the human body _couldn't _be designed to contain this much hatred and fury. Finally, he reached a storeroom on the lowest level of the mansion, at the center of that level; he was confident that no one would overhear what he was about to say.

When all of his comrades in arms were gathered in the room, Hawke closed the door, turned to them, and said, "Alright. Anders, I want you to gather up every apostate in the city that hasn't turned to blood magic, and form them into a cohesive fighting unit. Isabella, look into any pirates and raiders that don't want you dead, and tell them the Champion of Kirkwall has a job for them; Varric, same for the mercenary groups. Aveline and Donnic, I want you to prepare the Guard." "Prepare the Guard for what, Hawke?" Aveline asked, confusion and fear dominate on her features. "For war." Garrett replied. "We are gathering all the forces we can find, launching an assault on the Gallows, and killing every templar on that cursed island."

The reactions were varied, and expected; Fenris's eyebrows shot into his hairline, Isabella whistled and muttered "bold plan", Anders looked at Hawke as if he was in the presence of a god, Varric whispered "Chapter the Last: Pissing Off Everyone", Donnic looked surprised, than looked at his wife for direction, who was, for the first time in Garret's memory, dump struck, and Sebastian went into a complete rage.

"Hawke, if you attack the templars, you attack the Chantry itself," the former brother shouted. "That is the plan, Sebastian; I will not stand by while your "holy warriors" persecute, murder, rape, and sunder the minds of every mage in Thedas just for being a mage, and I certainly won't stand by after Meredith ordered that same atrocity on the women I love." "Hawke, Meredith had nothing to do with this," Sebastian insisted. "Alrik was a prejudiced man, who should never have even been given his Sun Shield; this assault was the work of a few sick individuals; it was not an official order by one of the Chantry's most ardent protectors."

"Actually, it _was_."

Everyone turned to the one person whom everyone in the room had believed would _not_ disagree with Sebastian; Fenris. The elf reached into one of his pockets, and pulled out a note, with the templar seal on it. "I found this on Alrik while the abomination was healing Merrill." He explained, handing the note to Hawke. The Champion took the piece of paper, unfolded it, and read aloud;

"_Dear Ser Alrik,_

_The Champion of Kirkwall has, as you may or may not be aware, again denounced our order, declaring that we are the worst sort of scum, and that the mages of the Circle should be free to live their lives as they see fit. This man has crossed the final line of sedition; his rebelliousness can no longer be tolerated._

_I know of your service to the Order, Alrik; you have always been one of the best here in Kirkwall. You have always done what has needed to be done. I know that you will do what is needed now. _

_As everyone knows, the Champion has taken a Dalish apostate, Merrill, as his paramour. While she spends her nights with the Champion, during the day she is known to frequent her home in the alienage._

_Your orders are this; take 2 templars, and, under cover of darkness, enter her home, and wait for her arrival. When she comes, perform the Rite of Tranquility on her, and remove her to the Gallows. _

_The Champion must be shown what happens to the enemies of the templars. He must never question our authority or our divine mission again. _

_Go, and may the Maker grant your mission is successful._

_Knight Commander Meredith"._

Hawke lowered the missive, looked a now pale Sebastian in the eye, and growled, "Does this sound like the work of the "inherently good" servants of the Chantry, Choir Boy." He never used Varric's nickname for Sebastian unless he was extremely angry with him, and everyone noticed it.

Aveline then stepped forward, and said, "Hawke, I understand that you are upset, but I can't order my Gaurdsmen to launch an attack on the Templars; it goes against everything the Guard stands for." "That doesn't matter, Aveline," Hawke replied, turning to the Captain. "I am invoking the pact we made coming back from the Vinmark Mountains, regarding Wesley."

When Hawke and his family encountered Aveline and her first husband while fleeing the Blight, Wesley had been wounded and infected with the darkspawn taint, which would either kill him slowly and painfully, or turn him into a ghoul, which for all intents and purposes would make him a darkspawn. The only thing they could do was end his suffering.

Aveline, however, could not bring herself to end her husband's life, and Hawke had done it in her stead. Since then, Aveline had held a (completely understandable) resentment for Hawke. However, after encountering a Grey Warden who had gone too long carrying the taint, they all saw exactly what Wesley might have become. After they had gotten back to Kirkwall, Aveline had thanked Hawke for doing what he had done, and promised that if he ever needed help in any enterprise, no matter what it was, she would assist him.

Now, however, Aveline blanched. "Hawke, when I made that promise, I was not expecting to be told to order my men to attack the Templar Order." "Fitting," Hawke replied, "that wasn't what I was expecting to ask you to do." "Aveline," Donnic spoke up, "the Guard will follow you no matter what you order us to do. And I think that this needs to be done." Aveline sighed, and then said, "Alright Hawke, I'm sure I will regret this, but I'll do it."

"Wait a moment!" Sebastian shouted, clearly upset. "All this is madness; you cannot attack the Templars for something the Chantry would never tolerate; Grand Cleric Elthina will-" Hawke silenced him by punching him in the face.

"THE CHANTRY HAS _ALWAYS _TOLERATED THIS, SEBASTIAN!" Garret screamed at the top of his voice. "AND SINCE MERRILL IS A DALISH ELF, I'D SAY THE CHANTRY _ENCOURAGES _IT! AND YOU ARE A FOOL IF YOU TRUELLY BELIEVE OTHERWISE." He paused, and then said, "And as for that old biddy, Elthina will do NOTHING about this. She will do NOTHING, just as she has always done. So if you want stand behind that spineless excuse for this city's spiritual leader, go right ahead; I will do something that is actually useful."

"Don't you dare insult Grand Cleric Elthina!" Sebastian shouted right back at Garret. "She has done more for this city than anyone else." "Oh really," Hawke said sarcastically. "I think that I was the one who stopped the Qunari assault, not that spineless whelp squatting in a building that should be blown sky-high!" Anders fidgeted nervously at these words, but Hawke was so enraged, he didn't notice.

"If that is your stance, Champion of Kirkwall," Sebastian said coldly, "then I am finished with you." As he marched out the door, Hawke called, "Best news I've had all day."

When the sounds of Sebastian's footsteps finally faded into silence, Hawke turned to the rest of his companions, and asked "Well? Is anyone else going to storm out?" Anders stepped forward, and said, "No matter what happens, Hawke, Justice and I are with you. What you plan will finally pave the way so that justice can be brought to the mages of Thedas." Nodding, Hawke turned to Isabella. "I'm with you too," the promiscuous pirate replied. "That bitch will pay for what she did to Merrill." Hawke was taken aback; he had never heard such bloodlust in Isabella's voice before. "Varric?" The dwarf sighed, and then said, "Hawke, attacking the templars will probably bring the wrath of the Divine on us, and will unleash the mages of the Circle, who are, in fact very dangerous. But, you're a good man, and Daisy is a sweet girl; neither of you deserved what Meredith has done to you. I've got your back, no matter what you do."

Nodding at Varric, he turned to Aveline. "I've already said that I will help you, Hawke. I don't think we should do this, but I trust you." Knowing that Donnic would support his wife, Hawke turned to his last comrade in arms: Fenris.

The elf thought for a moment, then asked, "What do you intend to do with the mages after the templars have been whipped out?" "They will be given their freedom." Hawke immediately replied. "They will be free to live their lives as they see fit, though blood magic and dealing with demons will still be forbidden, and training at the Circle, which will be made into a school rather than a prison, will be mandatory." Fenris thought for a moment, and then sighed, and said, "I fear that you are making a mistake, but I owe you everything, Hawke; my life, my freedom, and my future. I will not abandon you now."

Garret released a breath he didn't realize he had been holding. "Thank you, Fenris. Thank you, all of you. I know that this is an enormous leap of faith for all of you, and I am honored by the trust you have given me." "It's no problem, Garret," Isabella said. "Now, everyone, let's get to it; Hawke gave out instructions, and he is not the kind to be kept waiting." Everyone sprang up to go about their respective tasks.

"What will you be doing, Garret?" Varric asked. Hawke thought for a moment, then said, "I will be sending out messages to my militias to prep for the attack on the Gallows, and meeting with Meeran; we'll need the Red Iron, and any other mercenary groups to help out." With that, everyone went about their respective tasks, and a tangible sense of anticipation settled over all of them; they were going to war with the Templar Order.

One way, or another, Thedas would be altered forever. 


	7. Chapter 6

Chapter 6

**The Following Evening….**

Hearing a crash at the front door of the Chantry, Grand Cleric Elthena looked up from her book, and walked out into the main body of the Chantry, where a peculiar sight greeted her; Sebastian Veal had pushed the enormous doors of the Chantry with enough force to create the noise, and was currently pushing passed the sisters of the Chantry in a most rude fashion, with a look on his face that bespoke extreme anger. This confused her; Sebastian had always been of a more even temperament; something truly foul would have had to happen for him to be in such a state.

Catching up to the would-be Prince of Starkhaven, Elthena cleared her throat, and said, "What is troubling you, Sebastian?" Startled, Sebastian turned, then looked around and whispered, "We should discuss this in private, Your Grace." Nodding, Elthena led the former brother to a deserted room at the rear of the Chantry, then locked the thick doors, and sat at the table in the room, gesturing for Sebastian to sit opposite her.

"Now, what is troubling you?" Sebastian hesitated, and then described what had happened to Merrill, Hawke's new found abilities, Hawke's plan for the templars stationed at Kirkwall, and the argument that had occurred between them. At the end of it, Elthena had gone pale, and stood up. "I must speak to the Champion immediately; I may be able to dissuade him from this course."

"Do not waste your breath, Grand Cleric," Sebastian spat with uncharacteristic vehemence. "He despises you; he believes that you are the reason why the tensions between the mages and templars have gone on for so long. Hawke will not listen to anything you have to say." "Still," Elthena said, "I must try." And with that, she exited the room, determined to bring the Champion back from the dark, violent path he was about to start down.

**Transition**

Hawke stood in the main room of his mansion, his companions standing or sitting at various points around the room. Stepping forward, he cleared his throat, and said, "So, where do we stand on an army?" Aveline stood, and said, "Donnic and I have spoken to each and every member of the guard; all of them agreed to help. You will have the Kirkwall Guard's full support for this attack, Hawke." Nodding, pleased, Hawke turned to Isabella. "Several raider crews decided to throw in with the fight, Garret," the pirate replied. "They'll even let us use their ships to get to the Gallows, free of charge." Now smiling, Garret turned to Varric.

The dwarf called out, "I talked with the leaders of every mercenary group in the city, Hawke. Only half of them were interested in attacking the Chantry's military arm, but the ones that were are some of the best in the Free Marches. Some even said they would do it for free; I was amazed at how many of them had their own grievances with the Order."

"Anders," Hawke asked. "I've only found a dozen apostates that weren't blood mages. Or worse." Anders paused, apparently disappointed, and continued; "But, most of them are excellent healers; they're like me, trying to help the forgotten and repressed in the Undercity."

"Excellent!" Hawke exclaimed. "I've talked to Meeran, and the Red Iron will be supporting us, and my resistance cells are already prepping for the attack. With all the forces that you all have gotten together, we stand a good chance of winning this battle."

Just then, Bohdan entered the room, and said, "Messare, Grand Cleric Elthena has paid us a surprise visit." Everyone in the room flinched; if Elthena knew what they were planning, than she would undoubtedly inform Meredith, and their entire plan would be sunk. And Hawke had no doubt that she knew; Sebastian considered her a second mother, and would have defiantly told her of Hawke's intentions.

"Show her in." Hawke said simply. Turning, the dwarf went back to the front door, and within a minute, Grand Cleric Elthena walked into the room. Giving a quick glance to Hawke's companions, the priest turned to Hawke. "Champion, I apologize for this unannounced intrusion, but I must speak with you privately; it is an urgent matter."

Crossing his arms, Hawke snapped, "Dispense with the pleasantries, Elthena; I _know_ why you are here, as I am sure that Sebastian has already told you what I intend to do, and you have come to stop me. Let me get straight to the point; I don't care what you or the Chantry has to say on the matter. Meredith has crossed the proverbial line. And it is not the first time she, or any, templar, has done so. I have lived my whole life in fear that those I cared about would be taken away from me just because of your inept, hypocritical institution's fear of mages. Nor am I the only one to have done so; thousands upon thousands of families have been torn asunder for the sake of your hatred.

"I have seen what the Templar Order is, and the Chantry's apathy towards it. It is clear to me that neither organization can be trusted with the power and responsibility that you both wield. The time has come to act; there can be _no_ half-measures."

Elthena looked at him, and asked, "And the people of this city? Why would they support you in this?"

Hawke, once again, lost his temper. "WHY WOULD THEY SUPPORT ME! I am the reason there is any good in this city! I have seen the filth of this abomination known as Kirkwall. The nobles murder, steal, bribe, and whore their way to riches they do not deserve, and dozens die for their petty squabbles! One of your own "holy" mothers murdered Seamus Dumar, the heir to this city's throne, for choosing a different path in his life! Your priests go through Lowtown, asking people who can barely feed themselves and their families for coin to go to an organization whose coffers are already filled to bursting. You force the elves to live in poverty and squalor, and kill any who manage to overcome the odds against them, after having declared genocide on them and destroying their homeland, for a _second _time!"

"You know all of these things, and yet you do _nothing_! You sit back and tell the victims that their oppressors need more time to understand the Maker's ways, but we will _never_ know what his ways are! We must rely on our own judgment, not the wishes of a god who abandoned us millennia ago. And my judgment says that mages should not be imprisoned; my judgment says that _no one_ will threaten those I love, and live to tell about it; and my judgment says that MEREDITH MUST DIE!"

Elthena had taken several steps back by then, but Hawke was not finished. "_I _made Aveline Guard Captain, who is the reason why the Kirkwall Guard fights criminals, and doesn't take bribes from them. _I _am the reason the refugees and homeless in the Undercity have any hope or income at all. _I _am the reason why Kirkwall did not fall to the Qunari. And _I _will be the reason why the Chantry's tyranny ends here!"

And with that, Hawke reared his head back, and roared at the ceiling, which was scorched by the flames shooting out of his mouth. At this, Grand Cleric Elthena turned and fled in earnest. Ending the stream of flames, he closed his eyes, and breathed deeply, trying to calm himself.

"My goodness!" a cheery voice sounded behind him. "That was exciting!"

Turning, he saw that Merrill had come down the stairs without anyone noticing. "You heard that?" Hawke asked tentatively, afraid his less than compromising attitude had frightened his lover. "It would be astonishing if she _didn't_ hear you, Hawke." Aveline muttered.

Merrill crossed over to him, and hugged him tightly. "Don't worry, Ma Vhenan; I've seen you just as angry whenever we fight; this wasn't anything new." "No," Hawke muttered. "But I didn't breathe fire before, did I?" "No," Merrill admitted. "I would appreciate it if you didn't do that if we ever get into an argument." Laughing, Hawke said, "Okay, no scorching the cute Dalish Mage."

Giggling, Merrill said, "Let's go to bed, Garret; after a tirade like that, I'm sure you're tired." Nodding, Hawke turned to the others and said, "Alright, everyone, that's enough rebelliousness for one day; turn in." Nodding, Aveline and Donnic headed back to the Guard barracks, while Anders, Isabella, Varric, and Fenris went to the rooms Hawke had set up for them. He was headed back to his own room with Merrill, when he heard Leandra ask, "Garret, may I speak with you a moment?" Turning, Hawke said "Of course, Mother. I'll be right there, Merrill."

He walked into the now deserted kitchen, and Leandra looked him in the eye. Hawke came up short; there was fear the likes of which Hawke had never seen on his mother's face. "Hawke," Leandra said, voice shaking, "are you sure you want to do this?" Garret straightened his back, and said, "I have never been surer of anything, except the fact that I am head-over-heels in love with Merrill."

"Meredith tasks me, Mother; she tasks me, and I _will_ have her. I will follow her across the Waking Sea, and over the Frostback Mountains, and through the heart of the Void itself before I give her up."

**Transition**

Knight-Lieutenant Thrask raced through the streets of Lowtown, heading for the Champion's home. Just minutes before, he had received a very disturbing order from Knight-Commander Meredith; she had sent Ser Alrik, and two templars, all of whom Thrask knew to be of a sadistic and mage-hating disposition, after Champion Garret Hawke's elvish lover, Merrill, a known mage, with the intention of making her Tranquil. However, it had been a full day since the trio had set out, and none had reported back. Meredith had sent him to investigate their whereabouts.

Thrask knew he did not have to search to find his brothers in arms, however; if Meredith had sent them after one of Hawke's companions, and they had not returned, then they were dead by the Champion's hand.

Thrask was not in the least sorry, however. Meredith had lost her mind; she had been losing it for some time. Her unrelenting hatred of mages was driving every magic user to rebel against her, and the Templar Order. That wasn't how it should be; templars were meant to protect mages, not massacre them. They were supposed to stand with their charges against demons, not drive them into the monsters' arms.

That was why Thrask had started his own rebellion; he began planting seeds in the minds of the templars and mages of the Circle, teaching them that they didn't have to hate each other. Little by little, bit by bit, over the last six years, he had turned a third of the templars in Kirkwall, and half the adult mages to his banner. Once he had enough support, he had planned to rebel against Meredith, remove her from command, and save Thedas from the Mage-Templar conflict that Meredith would undoubtedly usher in through her blind hatred.

Now, however, the Knight-Commander had done something that would throw everything out of balance. If she had attacked Merrill, then Thrask knew that Hawke would come down on the Gallows like a tsunami. Thrask knew he had to act, before Hawke annulled the Kirkwall Order, innocent and guilty alike.

Hoping that Hawke was not already ordering the assault he would surely organize, Thrask sped through the city.

**AN: Before you ask, yes, I shamelessly copied the "task" line from Moby Dick. And Star Trek.**

**Also, I would like to thank KnightOfHolyLight for reminding me about Thrask; I had completely forgotten about him!**

**Thank you for all the support! **


	8. Chapter 7

Chapter 7

Hawke lay awake, staring at the ceiling. While Merrill had nodded off almost as soon as they lay down, sleep continued to evade the Champion of Kirkwall. He was worried about his coup against the templars, as well as the immediate aftermath of the battle. It was going to be chaos; the remnants of the Coterie and the Carta were bound to reassert themselves, as well as the Tevinter slavers would begin to operate more quickly, and many of the chantries fanatical supporters would want him dead for his treason.

But it was more than that. Hawke felt that something was fundamentally wrong with him. He could not get his anger and hatred for the templars out of his head; it felt as if his blood was boiling, and all he wanted to do was strap on his armor, grab his sword, and go out and slaughter ever single being that had ever stood against him, or his family.

This confused and frightened Hawke. He had always been of a calm and even disposition. Situations that would have most people tearing their hair out by the roots did not usually perturb Garret, something that he was extremely grateful for; he suspected that if he did not have such patience and understanding, he would have killed half of Kirkwall's nobility by now. Now, however, he seemed to have, overnight, become as edgy and ready to lash out as the average dragon.

Suddenly sitting bolt upright, the answer came to him; _dragon_. His Reaver abilities. It seemed that, in addition to gaining fantastic powers, the dragon blood he drank had left his temper as frayed as a worn out rope. He also knew that, given his position, he could ill afford to go on a murderous rampage due to some insipid noble droning at him.

_I need to learn how to control this._ Garret thought as he lay back down. _But how? I've never had to consciously keep tabs on my temper; it always came naturally to me. I don't know had to learn. _Just then, he heard Merrill sigh, and she flipped over in her sleep, draping her arm over his chest, and snuggling into his side. _Well, this certainly helps._ Returning his sleeping lover's embrace, he rolled on his side, and closed his eyes, focusing on his breathing. Slowly but surely, he heart rate went down, he felt less angry, and began to drift off.

_Knock! Knock! Knock!_

_Oh, what now! _Garret thought, temper flailing slightly. Carefully slipping out of Merrill's arms, he got out of bed, pulled on his trousers and tunic, and opened the door, where he found Bohdan. "Yes, Bohdan, what is it?" Hawke asked, trying his best to keep his newfound primitive side at bay. "I apologize, Messer, but there is someone waiting for at the door; he says he is an old friend."

Hawke groaned; ever since he had become a noble, he had all sorts of "old friends" popping up, and he was absolutely sure he had met exactly none of them. However, Hawke felt obligated to see who it was, on the off chance that it really was someone he knew. Walking down the stairs, he turned down the hall way that lead to the front door, and stopped in his tracks.

Standing in the atrium was the one templar that Hawke had any respect for; Knight-Lieutenant Thrask.

Even though he knew Thrask was a decent man, Hawke was not happy to see him.

"Champion," the templar said. "I apologize for coming so late, but it is urgent I talk to you. Meredith just informed me of what she ordered Alrik to do. Since he and his entourage have not returned have not returned, I assume that you have killed them?"

"Correct." Hawke replied, his tone flat.

"And you intend to assault the Gallows, and attack ever templar on the island, and put Meredith's head on a pike." It was not a question.

"You are two for two, Thrask."

"Please do not, Champion. You are not the only one to rebel against the knight-commander. I have been starting a movement of my own; not all templars are like Meredith and Alrik, Garret Hawke, and I have been rallying them. Already, a third of Kirkwall's order follows me. When the time is right, I intend to remove Meredith from power. If you attack the Gallows, then you will destroy the good templars as well as the bad. Please, reconsider Champion." Thrask was pleading with him by the end.

Hawke frowned, and crossed his arms. As much as he wanted to believe that all templars were sadistic, mage-hating murderers, he knew that that was not true, just as not all mages were innocent of the crimes the Chantry accused all mages of. He could not, in a good conscience, order his forces to slaughter ever templar in the Gallows, when some of those templars were not guilty.

Then, another thought occurred to him, and he almost purred with pleasure. _Perfect, _he thought. _Meredith has rebels within, and without. _Immediately, he revised his plan of attack.

"Alright, Thrask," Garret said after a few moments. "I will give you one day to prepare your men. By this time tomorrow, we will launch the assault on Meredith, and her templars." "Wait, what?" Thrask asked, his face showing confusion. "We are going to co-ordinate this assault. When my men assault the Gallows by boat, you and your men will be ready to strike from within. Meredith will not be expecting an assault by her own templars, and that will catch her and her men off guard, and that will give my forces to disembark and form up. Then, we will crush the bitch like an egg." 

"Are you insane, Champion?" Thrask demanded. "We cannot do this now." Garret crossed his arms, and replied, "You say you have been waiting for the right moment to strike; here it is. Between the two of us, we will outnumber Meredith's forces two to one, and they will be completely blindsided by our attack. There will never be a better opportunity to kill that demon, and we must take it."

Thrask paused, obviously deep in thought, and then said, "Very well, Champion; I will tell my forces to prepare. Maker willing, we can stop Meredith's insanity before she destroys the entire city." He turned to leave, when something else occurred to Hawke. 

"Thrask, wait!" He ran to a closet, and returned with a sizable box, filled with strips of red cloth. "My guerrilla fighters use these to identify themselves. Take them, and pass them out to your men, so that my fighters don't attack your followers unknowingly." Thrask took the box, thanked Hawke, and then left.

Hawke leaned against the door frame, smiling slightly. He knew that Thrask had been telling the truth about his rebellion; his daughter had been a mage, and he had gone against his creed and his brothers to help her escape the Circle. He would support Garrets cause fully.

Turning, he made his way back to bed.

**Transition**

Thrask walked through Hightown, heading back to the docks, mind reeling. He had gone with intention of stopping the Champion's assault on the Gallows; now, as he left, he found himself apart of it. Part of his mind screamed at him to abandon this plot, that it was not the right time to strike, and that he would leave the world in ruin unless he waited just a little longer to prepare.

But the rest of him was certain that he must join with Garret Hawke and strike now. The tensions between the templars and the mages of Kirkwall were boiling over; if it was not resolved soon, one way or the other, then he had no doubt that open war would be the result.

That and he held Meredith personally responsible for his daughter's death.

When he found that his daughter, Olivia, had the ability to use magic, his first decision was to send her to the Circle. His fear that she would be possessed begged for it, and his duty as a Templar demanded it. Olivia, however, had begged him to let her go, and let her live her life free of the Chantry's domination. She had heard through Thrask what Meredith was doing to Kirkwall's Circle, and desperately wanted to get as far away from the city as possible.

Had it been before Meredith's rise to power, when the Templars and mages were more cooperative of each other, than Thrask would not have let Olivia go, but ever since the women had become Knight-Commander, she cracked down on the mages more and more, for crimes that were more often than not imagined rather than fact. His fear of what would happen to his daughter at the Circle, combined with her pleas, was finally enough to brake him; he had given his daughter some money and supplies, and told her to get as far from Kirkwall as possible.

Later, however, he learned that Olivia had been captured by slavers, and, in a panic, accepted a deal with a demon, and had become an abomination. Fortunately, Hawke, who had been looking for another mage named Fenryal that had been taken by the same slavers, had arrived just as his daughter completed the unholy ritual, and had killed the monster that had once been Olivia before it could escape, and do untold damage to Kirkwall. He had only learned of Hawke's part when the man had personally came to him in the Gallows and handed him a letter written by Olivia, along with his sympathies and promise that the Templars would not find out about his relationship to her from him.

Thrask had spent a year mourning Olivia, but after that, he had turned his thoughts to stopping Meredith's unchecked rampage. The women was responsible for his daughter's untimely demise; had the Circle been what it should have been, a home and place of study for the mages of the Free Marches, than he would have taken Olivia there; she would have a home, she would have purpose, and she would, hopefully, have been happy. Now, because of Meredith's hatred, she was dead before her time, and mages continued to be tortured and hunted down like animals.

It had to end.

Hefting the box of cloth strips, he increased his pace, heading to the warehouse which was the headquarters of his movement.

_I do this for you, Olivia._ Thrask thought as he descended the massive stairway to Lowtown. _You, and every other mage who has suffered injustice at my brothers' hands._


	9. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

As Hawke walked back into his room, he heard Merrill whimpering softly. Fear gripping him, he burst into the room, and saw his lover thrashing on the bed, fists clenched, and her eyes squeezed shut. He ran over to her, grabbed her by the shoulders and started shaking her, saying "Merrill! Merrill, wake up!" Eventually, Merrill gasped, opened her eyes, and immediately started sobbing. Hawke held her to his chest, whispering "It's alright, Merrill. You're safe. They can't hurt you anymore." His heart broke with every tear Merrill shed.

Eventually, Merrill stopped crying, and said, "Demons. In my dreams, there were demons everywhere. They were offering me the power to destroy the templars; to take revenge for what Alrik did to me." Hawke cursed to himself; he should have known this would happen. "I refused their offers." Merrill continued. "Now that the Eluvian is gone, I have no reason to deal with them anymore, or use blood magic. My refusal angered them. They all started attacking me. If you hadn't woken me up-" "Don't even say it, Merrill." Hawke interrupted; the idea that he would have to kill Merrill was too painful to even think about.

"It's going to be alright, Merrill." Hawke whispered kissing her on the top of her head. "I am going to stop the templars, and they will never hurt you or anyone else ever again. No demons required." "Good" Merrill said.

They were silent for a moment, than Merrill spoke again. "Ma Vhenan, can you please keep an eye on me tonight, in case this happens again." "Of course, Merrill. Anything you need." Hawke replied. The couple settled in under the covers, and snuggled up together. Hawke kissed Merrill on the forehead. She sighed, closed her eyes and went to sleep again, Hawke staying awake, keeping watch over his lover.

**The next morning…**

After breakfast, Hawke called a meeting of his gang of soon-to-be rebels, and explained about Thrask and his own rebellion. After Hawke finished, everyone was silent, then Anders spoke up.

"Thrask got mages and templars working _together_, toward a goal they _both_ agree on? The man must be the Maker in disguise." "Hawke," Aveline said, "are you sure that you can trust Thrask? You seem dead set on killing every templar you find." "Thrask is the only templar I have any respect for, and his daughter was a mage." Hawke replied. "If he says he wants to help, I will believe him."

There was another pause, then Fenris asked "What now, Hawke?" "Now, we wait until nightfall. Then, we gather our forces at the Docks, send a signal to Thrask and his men to launch a preemptive strike on the Gallows, and cross the harbor, and kill every templar that supports Meredith. That is what we will do, Fenris."

"Anymore questions?" When no one spoke up, Hawke said, "Dismissed", and everyone filed out of the room. As Anders walked past him, Hawke suddenly remembered Ander's request before the attack on Merrill, and said, "Anders, wait. I need to speak with you."

When they were by themselves, Hawke elaborated. "I just wanted to apologize for not helping you find the ingredients for your potion. I promise, as soon as we are finished with the templars, I will help you finish it." "I lied, Garret," Anders immediately said. "There is no potion." Taken aback, Hawke asked, "Then what did you need these ridiculous things for?" Anders fidgeted, visibly uncomfortable. "I was going to make…. I suppose that you would call it an explosive device."

Hawke's eyes narrowed into slits. "And what," he said, his tone threatening, "were you planning to 'explode'?" "The Kirkwall Chantry." Anders muttered, staring at the floor. "I see." Hawke muttered, in a flat tone of voice.

Then, he struck at Anders.

He grabbed the mage by the collar of his coat, and smashed him against the wall. At the same time, he used his templar abilities to drain away Anders's mana, so that he could not defend himself. "AND WHAT," Hawke shrieked, "MADE YOU THINK _THAT_ WAS GOOD IDEA?" "Because the Chantry needs to be overthrown," the trapped mage spluttered. "It claims to help the people under it, but it doesn't! It hurts them more than it ever helps! You KNOW that, Garret!"

"Yes," Hawke replied, "I know that, but most people believe that the Chantry IS in the right. Blowing up a Chantry would only make them less inclined to listen to you." Shaking his head, Hawke released Anders, who bent over and put his hands on his knees, trying to catch his breath. "In fact, it would do worse than make them not listen to you, it would make Meredith invoke the Right of Annulment, and wipe out the Kirkwall Circle, and it would make the Divine declare that simply being a mage a crime punishable by death. Did you even stop to think about that?"

The answer was clear on Anders's face; 'No, I didn't.'

Sighing, Hawke pinched his brow, and asked, "Do you still intend to go on with this plot?" "There's no need to now, Hawke," Anders replied. "You're already launching an attack on the templars, and setting the mages free; I don't need to destroy the Chantry." "Are you going to do it even if it isn't needed?" Hawke needed to make sure that this ridiculous plot did not come to fruitation. "No, I will not." Anders replied.

"Good," Hawke said, handing Anders a lyrium potion to start producing his mana again. "And I don't want to hear that you're planning anything like this again." He added. "I won't," Anders replied. Then he drank the potion, and started his way to his clinic in darktown.

**Transition**

Sebastian woke up, still in the foul mood that had dominated his thoughts for the past few days. Garret Hawke, the Champion of Kirkwall, was about to attack the Chantry's servants, the very heart and soul of Thedas. He could understand the man's reasons for doing so; a blind man could see that Garret loved Merrill, and what Alrik and Meredith had done to her was inexcusably wrong. But to call for the deaths of every templar at the Gallows, when the Chantry's true justice would see that those who were responsible were punished, was too much.

Standing, he dressed, then strapped on his armor, and walked out of his quarters, and into the main body of the Chantry. There, he saw Grand Cleric Elthina sitting in a chair, reading a book, looking extremely pale. Suddenly afraid, Sebastian hurried over to his second mother, placed a hand her shoulder. Surely Hawke wouldn't hurt the Grand Cleric of Kirkwall. Would he?

Jumping slightly, Elthina looked up, and looked relieved to see it was him. "What happened, Elthina? Did Hawke hurt you?" Elthina sighed, and closed her eyes. "Not physically, no." "What do you mean?"

"I mean, he struck at me spiritually. And he didn't even try to. Ever since I joined the Chantry, Sebastian, I have worked to safeguard and guide the faith of the people of this city. I have always been convinced that the Chantry's way was the correct path, and that all those who lived in the Maker's sight, with us as his eyes, benefited from it, even if they didn't realize it. But now, I look at Garret Hawke, and I am no longer sure of many things that I have long been certain of.

Garret has spent his entire life living in fear of the Chantry, because the templars would take away his father, and his sister, because of our doctrine. Everywhere he went, he was forced to listen to our Brothers and Sisters condemn mages as less than human, that they were abominations in the Maker's sight, and he could not so much as raise his voice in defense of his family.

Then, the Blight came, and destroyed their home, and killed his brother. And he was forced to hear us speak of how the Maker had "saved" his home, when it was really destroyed utterly. He was forced to bring his family to Kirkwall, the heart of templar power, knowing that if they were discovered, it would mean the deaths of them all. Yet in spite of all of this, he went on an expedition to the Deep Roads, toward the very monsters who destroyed his home, in order to provide a home and safety for his family.

And what was his reward? Seeing a templar, a servant of the Chantry, drag his sister away to the Circle, the very place that he had fought tooth and nail to keep her away from his entire life. And throughout, he saw other mages suffer, in the same or worse positions that his family was in all his life.

Then, he found Merrill, the women he loves, and wishes to spend the rest of his life with. And now the Chantry has struck at her as well. Is it any surprise that Hawke wishes this entire religion and its servants wiped from the face of Thedas?"

Sebastian hung his head, shamefaced. "No, Grand Cleric."

"I didn't think so. Meredith may have felt that Merrill was a threat to this city, and for that reason make her tranquil, but such arguments will never be enough to someone who has such strong feelings for her."

Suddenly, Sebastian's head snapped up. He suddenly remembered that, though he told Elthina about the letter Meredith gave ordering the Rite of Tranquility, he had never told the Grand Cleric the reason why she did.

He then explained that Meredith had not acted because she believed that Merrill was a threat, and had in fact been using her authority simply to strike at Hawke. When he had finished, Elthina looked angrier than he had ever seen her. Standing, she placed her book back on the shelf, and said "A servant of the Chantry abused her power in such an unforgivable manner simply to further her own hatred?" Sebastian nodded. "Then perhaps the Champion is correct, at least in the regard that Chantry is far too apathetic towards its own wrongdoers."

Excusing herself, Elthina marched toward her personal quarters. When he heard her close the door, Sebastian exited the Chantry, heading toward Hawke's manor.

He had an apology he needed to make.

**A.N.**

**I wrote the first scene between Hawke and Merrill because I felt that I was giving the impression that Merrill had made an instant recovery from her ordeal, which I know is completely unrealistic. **

**Also, I apologize to those who hate filler, because that is pretty much all this chapter is. I promise, the big battle will start next chapter.**

**Secondly, I will be continuing the story after the Battle of the Gallows, starting after Varric is finished retelling his tale to the Seekers.**

**Finally, I have an idea floating around in my head for a One-shot about this story, called Dragon's Rage: The Musical, where I would list some songs, and set them to certain moments in my story. If you all could send me your thoughts on this, that would be great.**

**Thank you for all the wonderful comments and reviews. I hope everyone had a lovely Thanksgiving. **


	10. Chapter 9

Chapter 9

Hawke paced the room, impatient, and bored out of his skull. The preparations for his attack on the Gallows were all complete; his militias had all received word, and were assembling at set points in the Undercity, Aveline had reduced Guard patrols to the least amount possible so that the majority of the guardsmen would be rested for the attack, the mages Anders had rounded up were preparing healing potions for the injuries that the attack force would inevitably suffer, Thrask had sent word that all his conspirators were prepared for the assault, and the pirates who's ships they were to use to cross the harbor and the mercenaries were getting drunk to pass the time.

This left him with absolutely nothing to do at a time when he was entirely focused on wanting to do something.

This left him irritable and short-tempered. He had only been in a real battle when the Qunari had attacked the city, and even then he had only been in command of his group of companions. Now, however, he was in charge of a large force, and had to coordinate it in a cohesive unit. He found the task rather daunting, and suspected that he would have to delegate each group's leader with a lot of decision-making power.

Looking around the room, he saw that his comrades weren't faring much better. Fenris, like Hawke, was pacing like a caged animal. Leandra was pretending to read a book, but Garret could see that her eyes were not moving to read the words. Varric, having failed to raise any of them from their stupor with an offer of telling his exaggerated tails of their old exploits, was oiling Bianca for the third time. Merrill was alternating between sleeping for ten or fifteen minutes and jerking awake to stare at the wall; every time she did this, Hawke immediately ran up to her. She always smiled and said she was fine, but the smiles never reached her eyes, and whenever she thought no one was looking, she acquired a drawn, haunted look.

Aveline, however, in Hawke's opinion, had it the worst, because Isabella was dealing with the situation by tormenting the Guard Captain.

"You have such pretty hair." The former pirate commented. "What a lovely color."

"Other children used to make fun of me for having ginger hair." Aveline replied.

"Oh, I bet you were cute. Did you have pigtails?" "Sometimes."

"How precious." Isbella cooed. "Little Aveline, running through the village with her flaming orange pigtails streaming behind her. And little boys all screaming and begging for mercy as she approached." 

Caught off-guard by that last comment, everyone started laughing, except for Aveline, whose only response was to mutter, "Shut up, whore."

Once everyone had stopped laughing, Bohdan came in, cleared his throat, and said, "Messer Hawke, Sebastian Veal is at the door; he says he needs to speak with you."

Everyone froze, than looked at Hawke, who looked mad enough to kill. Without a word, he marched out of the room, into the entrance hallway, and out the door, where he found a very nervous looking would-be-prince of Starkhaven waiting for him.

Hawke closed the door, turned to Sebastian, and growled, "You have one chance, Choir Boy. Don't tick me off." Sebastian nodded, and then said, "Hawke, Grand Cleric Elthina and I have discussed what you are doing, and we have decided that you are correct. Meredith must be stopped; the Templars have become far too tyrannical of their charges, and it is clear that they will not change on their own." He paused, and then asked, "Still I must know; do you really believe that this is necessary?" Hawke crossed his arms, and said "All that is needed for evil to triumph is for those of good conscience to do nothing."

"There is truth in that," Sebastian sighed. "Alright, Hawke, I will help you. I don't know if we can win this fight, or even if we should, but I will help you regardless." Hawke smiled slightly, and said "Very well, Sebastian, welcome aboard. Again." Shaking his hand, Hawke invited him into his house to explain to the rest; Choir Boy was back.

**Later that night…..**

Bethany Hawke walked through the Gallows, trying to move fast, but also trying not to draw suspicion from anyone she might come across. She had just received a message from Orsino, First Enchanter of Kirkwall's Circle of Magi, and, unofficially, her lover. In the six years since she had been brought to the Circle by the Templars, the two had fallen for each other, despite the thirty year age gap between them. She had thought that they would be condemned for such a relationship, but, to her surprise, the mages accepted that without much more than some gossip among the apprentices. Apparently, mages had much looser opinions on such matters.

It was dangerous, however. The templars here were always looking for weakness in mages, or were simply looking for some excuse to torment them. Several templars were already tormenting other such couples at the Circle by threatening their partners; the only reason it wasn't happening to her and Orsino was the fact that the latter was Senior Enchanter, and thus was given slightly more leeway.

Of course, it wasn't perfect. Mages were forbidden to marry, or (and this hurt Bethany deeply) even have children. Any mages who gave birth had their newborns taken away before the mother's could even _look _at them. And Bethany had no doubt that if she and Orsino were to have children, they would meet the same fate. Although, as Orsino was First Enchanter, he might be able to persuade Meredith to give the child to Garret; that wouldn't be as bad. At least her son or daughter would be among family.

She shook her head, clearing her mind. Such thoughts would only make her miserable, and would likely attract demons. She had to focus on the here and now. And the here and now was going to the office of the First Enchanter, where in was the man she was in love with.

Finally coming to the door, she knocked. "Come in," she heard within the room. Opening the door, Bethany stepped in, closed the door, crossed over to Orsino, and hugged him.

Looking at his eyes, however, Bethany came up short. In the days since Meredith had taken de facto control of the city, Orsino had always looked worried, but now he appeared downright terrified. Something terrible must have happened.

"Orsino, what's wrong?" Bethany asked. The First Enchanter sighed, then said, "I've been hearing rumors among the templars; they think that Meredith attacked, or was planning to attack, your brother."

Bethany scoffed, and rolled her eyes. "I hear the same from virtually every templar that speaks to me a least three times a week, and yet, everyday, Garret is seen in perfect health." "Yes, love, but this time it is different. I've heard that Hawke hasn't been seen anywhere in the city for three days now. I fear Meredith may have overstepped her bounds, and actually done something to him." 

Bethany had never heard of her brother locking himself up in his house and not seeing anyone, and that, more than anything, convinced Bethany that something was indeed wrong with her brother. "What do we do?" she whispered. "I don't know, love. I might have been able to leave the Gallows to look for him, but after the speech I gave in Hightown, I haven't been allowed any further than the courtyard."

Suddenly, Bethany was annoyed with Orisino. "Yes, why in the Maker's name did you think that _that_ was a good idea?"

Just as the First Enchanter was about to respond, there was a series of explosions that seemed to emanate from the main gate that lead to the harbor. Grabbing their staves, Orsino and Bethany ran towards the explosions, which were now accompanied by war cries, screams of pain, and steel hitting steel. Coming to the Courtyard, a scene of utter chaos was presented to them.

The templars that had been on duty, or had rushed to learn what had caused the explosions, were under attack- by other Templars! Not expecting to be assaulted by their own brothers, many had been cut down before they could draw their blades. Now the rebel templars seemed to be outnumbered, but then, groups of Circle Mages sprang from the shadows, blasting the loyalist templars with bolts of spirit and ice spells. Normally, the templars would have drained the mana of the mages, leaving them defenseless, but now, occupied in melee combat, they had no opportunity to do so, and the loyalists fell in droves.

Before the couple could decide whether to try and stop the rebellion, or join it, they saw a series of massive fireballs smash into the already heavily damaged gates, from _outside _the prison! The abused gates creaked, then collapsed into a pile of rubble and twisted metal. And a few moments later, a smorgasbord of warriors poured over the rubble, into the courtyard, and began attacking the loyalist templars.

There were pirates, lightly armored militia, Guardsmen, several apostate mages, and members of the Red Iron mercenary group that she and her brother had severed in during their first year in Kirkwall.

And at the head of them, swinging his blade through steel, man, and stone alike, was her brother, Garret.

**A.N. **

**Hurray! Templars are getting their butts handed to them! Finally!**

**For any fans of my other story, Dragon Age: Inseparable, I am sorry that I have neglected it; I became obsessed with this one. I promise, I will try to start that one up again. **

**Hope you enjoy! **


	11. Chapter 10

Chapter 10

Hawke sprinted over the rubble that had once been the main gate of the Gallows, and immediately charged into the fray, screaming with bloodlust. Running over to a group of six templars that were trying to overpower two of Thrask's men, Hawke swung the Celebrant so quickly that three of the enemy templars were dead before their fellows knew what had happened. Then when they refocused on Hawke, the two would-be victims each killed a loyalist templar. The last enemy warrior ran at Hawke, but slipped on the blood of his fellow templars, and fell to the ground. Spinning the sword around, Hawke stabbed the Celebrant into the templar's back. The man uttered a piercing scream of agony, and then was silent.

Pulling to blade out of the warrior, Hawke looked around and beheld the fight around him. Everywhere there were thrashing bodies, swinging blades, and the occasional flash of magic. Every so often, Hawke saw one of his companions among the fray; Isabella was mainly keeping to the shadows, striking at loyalist templars when their backs were turned, and throwing grenades at whenever they convened in groups; Aveline and Donnic were at the center of a small phalanx of Gaurdsmen that was pushing through the center of the Courtyard while other fighters guarded their flanks; Fenris in his ethereal form, was ripping the templars' hearts out left and right; Anders was healing injured fighters, and occasionally launching balls of ice at the loyalist templars; Sebastion and Varric standing back-to-back, shooting arrows in every direction.

Moving on to the next group, Hawke staggered them with a Holy Smite blast, ironically one of the templar's own abilities. Knocked off balance, Hawke swung his blade at the nearest templar. The blow caught the man on the right collarbone, and cut through his chest, until the blade exited beneath his left armpit; the templar's two halves fell to the ground. Spinning around, Hawke lashed out with a massive horizontal slash, which cut all but one of the remaining templars across the stomach. The last one swung his sword upward in a vertical slash. Hawke kicked the templar's forearm, and when the man stumbled, Garret slashed downward, decapitating him.

"Garret!" Surprised, Hawke turned and saw his sister, Bethany, running up to him, with First Enchanter Orisino in tow. "Bethany! It's good to see you. I wish it was under better circumstances."

No sooner had he finished his sentence when another templar ran up to him, swinging his sword. Leaning back, Garret avoided the blow, then with his off hand, grabbed the templar by the neck, lifted him in the air, and impaled him through the abdomen. Letting the warrior fall to the ground, Garret lifted his foot and brought it down on the templar's neck, breaking it, to make sure he was dead.

"Champion, what is going on?" Orisino practically shouted. "War, First Enchanter." Hawke replied. "War is going on. We are stomping out the templars, and setting your people free." "And you really thought this was necessary?" Bethany asked in a small voice. "You know me, sis; I don't do things half-way. Now you get to the docks, and get on one of the boats headed back to Kirkwall." "No, brother." Garret came up short. Squaring her shoulders, Bethany said, with fire in her eyes, "If you're going to stomp out the templars and set mages free, I'll be right beside you the whole time, no matter what."

And Garret knew it would do no good to argue.

So instead, he looked at Orisino, and said, "First Enchanter, will you please watch my sister's back through all this?" The elf's eyes seemed to turn into emerald flames, and he replied, "With my life."

Slightly confused by Orisino's reaction, Hawke nodded, then turned and rejoined the battle, which was swinging overwhelmingly in the rebellion's favor, as loyalist templars fell by the dozen's. As he ran to reengage his opponents, Bethany and Orsino sent fireball's rocketing over his head. Exploding on their targets, the incendiary projectiles killed eight templars outright and stunned a dozen more, which Hawke quickly cut down.

Finally, after striking down the last of the stunned templars, Hawke saw a specific templar at the center of what was left of the loyalist battle-line; Ser Cullen, Knight-Captain of the Kirkwall Circle of Magi, and Meredith's second in command. As Hawke watched three of his men, two militiamen and one mercenary, charged Cullen. With ease, the Knight-Captain cut down the lightly armored militia, sidestepped the mercenary's warhammer, and broke the man's neck with a well placed blow with his shield.

_He's the only thing holding them together_, Hawke thought, struck by realization. _If he falls, the templars will collapse, and it will be a simple thing to find and wipe them out. _Sprinting at Cullen, he leapt into the air and lifted the Celebrant above his head in preparation for a massive downward blow.

Time seemed to slow down as Hawke brought his sword down. Cullen looked up, and his eyes widened as he saw what was coming at him. The Knight-Captain raised his shield to block the blow.

Hawke's blade struck the top of Cullen's shield, and cut it in half until the blade reached the middle of the shield; Cullen's plate armor was the only thing that kept Garret from the cutting the shield (and the arm holding it) in half. Pulling the Celebrant out of the piece of steel, Hawke slashed at Cullen again, who jumped back to avoid the blow, throwing away his now useless shield, and gripping his sword handle with both hands.

The two leaders of men then squared off in a one-on-one duel, as the battle raged around them. Cullen and Hawke exchanged blow after blow. Neither one had any thoughts beyond the direction they were swinging their blades: up, down, left, right, left again. Around them, the loyalist templars were broken up into two groups, and were being pushed back into the wings of the main courtyard.

Finally, Garret and Cullen locked their blades, trying to push the other back. Their faces were within inches of each other. Garret's was filled with inhuman rage, and Cullen's, for the first time, showed fear.

"Why are you doing this, Champion? What have we done to earn extermination?" "Why don't you ask Merrill?" Garret shouted, pushing the Knight-Captain back a step. "Why don't you ask her how Ser Alrik and his two partners beat her, raped her, tried to make her tranquil, and _destroyed the ancient elven artifact that she made her life's work to repair, on Meredith's orders?" _ With that, Hawke smashed his fist into Cullen's jaw, and the Knight-Captain fell to the ground.

He spat up blood, and said, "Meredith ordered us to leave your people be, Champion." Looking up, Cullen continued. "She knew better than to attack anyone that was one of yours; she would never try to get away with that." "Then explain this," Hawke declared, pulling Meredith's missive out of his belt, and reading it aloud to the Knight-Captain.

When Hawke finished, Cullen looked at the missive, and said, "That is Meredith's handwriting, and the Templar insignia." The horror of what his Commander had done dawned on him, and Cullen knew why Hawke was doing this. "Maker, Champion, I am sorry; I did not realize that Meredith would do something like this."

Hawke punched Cullen again. "OF COURSE YOU KNEW THAT SHE WOULD DO THIS! YOU SIMPLY DELUDED YOURSELF LONG ENOUGH TO BELIVE OTHERWISE. Now get you men to stand down."

Nodding, Cullen turned and walked toward the left wing of the courtyard; the templars in the right wing had already been slaughtered to the last man. Hawke called over Bethany and Orisino, and sent them with the Knight-Captian so that Hawke's men wouldn't attack him on sight. Within ten minutes, the surviving templars were bound and lined up along the courtyard's left side.

_Now, to deal with Meredith._ Hawke turned, preparing to climb the stairs in the courtyard, and then stopped.

Meredith was standing at the top of the stairs, her strange looking greatsword in hand, and a look of fury upon her face.

At first neither of them moved or said anything, they only glared at each other with hate. Hawke had forgotten exactly how Meredith looked amidst the heinousness of her crimes; how her golden hair curled around her face, her sky blue eyes that were as hard as steel, the bearing that commanded respect from all who looked at her.

To anyone else, she would be beautiful.

To Hawke, there was not, nor would there ever be, anything as monstrous.

Four Knight-Lieutenants walked up and stood at Meredith's flanks, but aside from that, no one moved. Hawke was vaguely aware that the courtyard had gone completely silent.

Then, the Knight-Commander spoke.

"And here we are, Champion. At long last."

Hawke lowered his voice, and though it was almost a whisper, to everyone in the courtyard that day, it was as if he had screamed the words at the top of his lungs: "I'm going to make you pay for what you did to Merrill."

Meredith's bearing changed to that of supreme arrogance. "I will be _rewarded_ for ordering the elf made Tranquil, in this life and the next. As will Ser Alrik."

Hawke was about to attack Meredith, when suddenly Cullen stepped forward. "Knight-Commander," he said, and Hawke was surprised to hear suppressed anger in his voice. "The Rite of Tranquility has always been a last resort; it requires that a mage could not resist a demon's power." Meredith's eyes narrowed at her second-in-command. "It requires my order, Cullen, nothing else." "No," the Knight-Captain snapped. "I defended you when Thrask started whispering that you were mad, but now you have gone too far."

Meredith shouted, "I will NOT allow insubordination! We must stay true to our path!" and pointed her sword at Cullen, which began to glow a vivid red and emit a metallic hum.

Hawke started, and Varric whispered, "Andraste's dimpled butt checks!" They both knew where that sword had come from; during their Deep Roads expedition, they had come across an ancient dwarven thaig, and had found an idol made out of an unknown kind of lyrium. When Bartrand, Varric's older brother, touched the idol, it began to drive him insane, and Bartrand had sealed Varric, Hawke, Aveline and Anders in the thaig; it was why they were so late returning, and how Meredith had managed to find and arrest Bethany. Three years later, they found Bartrand, and learned of his mental illness. Varric had put his brother out of his misery, but Bartrand had already sold it, apparently to Meredith.

Suddenly, Hawke remembered what they had managed to get out of Bartrand about the then unknown buyer: _She glittered like the sun, but her heart was ice._ What a fitting description.

Seeing Hawke's surprised look, Meredith smiled insanely. "You recognize it, do you not? Pure lyrium, taken from the Deep Roads. The dwarf charged a great deal for his prize."

Hawke, deciding it was his turn to intimidate, unleashed his Reaver ability to drain the life forces of others, and, with a sickening squelching sound, the blood of all the corpses that blanketed the Gallows raced to his call, leaving the bodies looking as if they had been mummified in the desert. The blood swirled around his body, healing his wounds and revitalized his muscles. When he finished the ritual, he felt as well rested and ready to fight as he did before the battle started.

"Turning the idol into a fancy sword won't save you, Meredith." Hawke growled.

Turning to her Lieutenants, Meredith shrieked, "All of you! I want him DEAD!"

"Enough!" Cullen shouted. "This is not what the Order stands for." He sounded as if he was trying to convince himself of that, not Meredith. "Knight-Commander, _step down!_ I relieve you of your command."

Meredith stopped, turned to Cullen, and whispered, "My own Knight-Captain falls prey to the influence of blood magic." Her face twisting in anger, she shouted, "You ALL have!" Turning to each of the lieutenants in turn, she continued, "You're all WEAK! Allowing the mages to control you minds, to turn you against me! But I don't need any of you! I will protect this city myself."

"She's lost it, Hawke." Varric murmured. "Just like Bartrand." "All the more reason to tear her heart out," Garret replied, marching toward Meredith as the Knight-Commander recited, "_Blessed are those who stand before the corrupt and the wicked, and DO NOT FALTER!"_

**Author's Note:**

**I am a stinker for cutting this short, aren't I? **


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter 11

Meredith and Hawke meet at the foot of the stairs, and began their duel. Both fought with as much strength and fighting skill as they could muster, neither could make much headway; they were too evenly matched.

Despite the size and weight of their blades and armor, the two seemed to move as fast as lightning; sparks flew off their swords and armor as the two blades struck each fighter. Locking their blades together, as Hawke had done with Cullen, the two engaged in their own shoving match, both with such hatred on their faces several of the onlookers thought an explosion would occur if the duel was not resolved soon.

Deciding to resort to the unexpected, Hawke shoved Meredith back several steps. When Meredith recovered, she prepared for a continued assault, but instead of charging her and playing into her hand, Hawke called on his fire breath. But instead of releasing it in a stream, he kept his mouth firmly shut so that the fuel gathered in his mouth until his cheeks bulged out like a chipmunk's. Finally, when he couldn't fit anymore into his mouth, he spat the fuel at Meredith in a large ball.

The sphere burst into flame, appearing for the all world like a mage's fireball, and slammed into Meredith's chestplate, and exploded. Meredith was knocked back several feet, and fell on the stairs, her armor dented and the edges of her clothing and her hair smoking. Hawke's impromptu army cheered at his accomplishment.

Hawke, however, was disquieted. _She should have been killed,_ he thought.

Standing, and now looking fully surprised by Hawke's newfound ability, Meredith attempted to drain his mana, believing that Hawke was a mage. However, Hawke was not a mage, and Meredith was simply wasting time and energy. Garret again breathed flame at her, this time in a stream, and Meredith dove to the side to avoid it. Hawke ran at the Knight-Commander swinging the Celebrant over his head, trying to cleave her in half. Again, Meredith dove to avoid his blow, and the cobblestone beneath her was split in half by Hawke's strike. Garret turned to face the Knight-Commander, now facing in the direction he had started.

Meredith stumbled to her feet, panting and looking at Hawke with a mixture of fear and hatred. "Maker," she breathed, "your servant begs you for the strength to defeat this evil." With her blade glowed red again, Meredith jumped 40 feet into the air, did a back flip, and landed at the top of the stairs, leaving a formidable crater in the stone, and looked none the worse for wear from a drop that would have killed her normally.

_Not good._ Garret thought.

Then, the Knight-Commander plunged her sword into the ground, and scarlet flames burst up on the stairs, making it impossible to reach her, and one of the old statues in the courtyard, that had four arms which held two axes and a pike and stood fifteen feet tall, came to life, jumped down from its perch, and started advancing on Hawke.

_Even worse! _

Bracing himself, Hawke stood his ground as the metal guardian advanced on him, swinging its polearm at him. At the last possible moment, Garret jumped to the side, and the weapon buried itself in the cobblestone, and stuck there. Before the statue could pull it back out, Hawke jumped onto its arm, climbed onto its shoulder, and chopped its head off with one blow. The statue, however, did not seem to notice, and began trying to shake Hawke off. He grabbed the rim at the statue's neck, and held on for dear life.

Looking down, Hawke noticed that center of the statue was hollow. Struck by inspiration, he immediately breathed fire down the statue's neck, and then leapt off, rolling as he hit the ground. The statue started toward him, then slowed down, and finally fell apart as its chest melted.

Looking around, he saw that Meredith had also given life to an identical statue on the other side of the courtyard, and it was tearing his men to shreds. Before he could run over to assist, however, it seemed that every mage in the vicinity blasted the statue with ice spells at the same time, freezing the monstrosity in mid-blow. Then, warhammer and mace-wielding soldiers ran up to the statue and beat it until the frozen metal shattered piece by piece, eventually reducing the statue to frost-coated bits.

Meredith shrieked with rage at the destruction of her metallic servants, and drove her lyrium sword into the ground again. This time, the multitude of statues shaped to look like slaves in various positions of torture sprang to life. Fortunately, these statues were both smaller and unarmed. Then Meredith flew down and joined the fray herself.

Hawke tried to run after Meredith, but was quickly swallowed up in the chaos as battle once again engulfed the Gallows. The slave statues had the advantages of size and strength, and were able to kill several dozen of Hawke's men each. Fortunately, they were not very bright, and always waded into the center of Hawke's forces, where they were surrounded and overwhelmed by the sheer numbers of weapons that struck them.

Garret, searching for Meredith, took down several of the statues himself, some with is fire breath and the rest with his blade. His main focus, however, was finding Meredith; as bad as these statues were, they were nothing compared to what that women could be doing with that obnoxious sword.

Finally, once most of the statues were dealt with, he spotted the Knight-Commander near the center of the courtyard, fighting Aveline, Fenris, Donnic, Thrask, and Cullen all at the same time. Hawke knew that if she had hadn't been using her lyrium sword, she would be dead long before, but as it was, the five warriors could make no headway.

Suddenly, Meredith slammed the sword into the ground, creating a massive wave of energy that sent the five warriors flying away. Filled with rage as he watched his friends and allies slam into the ground, Hawke sprinted at Meredith, slashing the Celebrant at her stomach. She blocked the blow with her own blade, and then spun around, sword aimed at his neck; Garret leaned back like a tree swaying in the wind, and the tip of the blade sailed past his head.

Hawke then launched into a complex series of blows, forcing Meredith on the defensive. Eventually, the sheer force of his assault forced Meredith to start backing up in order to gain room to maneuver. Garret, however was not having it; the more ground Meredith gave up, the harder and faster he rained blows on her.

Eventually, Meredith tripped and stumbled back, running into the side passage to the Templar Hall. Slashing his blade like a madman, lashed out at the scurrying Knight-Commander, sending sparks everywhere as the Celebrant struck the stone walls where Meredith had been just a second before.

Now in the courtyard of the templar hall, Hawke advanced on the Knight-Commander, and swung his sword in an uppercut fashion, which Meredith clumsily avoided. Her hair fanned out, though, and the Celebrant slashed through it, sending several locks floating to the ground.

They began their duel again in center of the Hall's courtyard, and Hawke knew that he was winning; Meredith's breath was increasingly ragged, her blows were erratic, and Garret felt her arms tremble whenever she blocked one of his attacks. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw his forces start coming into the Templar Hall to witness the duel; the remaining statues must have been defeated. Then, Aveline, Thrask, and Fenris started running up to the fighters, intending to help Hawke.

"NO!" He shouted, smashing the pommel of his sword into Meredith's chest to gain room and time. "Get back! GET BACK! SHE'S MINE!" His companions hesitated, and then stood back with the rest of the soldiers.

Turning back to Meredith, he saw that he had actually knocked her to the ground. She was currently on her hands and knees, trying to regain her footing. Hawke immediately slashed at her neck which Meredith barely blocked, holding her lyrium sword with only one hand. He slashed at her again. And again. And again. Each time Meredith blocked the blow. Finally, Garret slashed horizontally, forcing the lyrium blade up; then, before Meredith could react, he brought the Celebrant down.

Meredith screamed in agony as Hawke cut her forearm off. The sword fell to the ground with a clang, and Meredith clutched her elbow, that was now spurting blood everywhere. She looked from her wound to Hawke, and her eyes were filled with hatred.

"You will suffer for this, Champion. I will go to the Maker's side, and will serve him for eternity, while you and your ilk shall wander the Void forever, with no rest, and no peace."

Hawke spun the Celebrant until the tip was facing downward. "If the Maker accepts the likes of you and Alrik at his side, Knight-Commander," he spat, "I would _prefer_ damnation." And with that, he lifted his blade over his head, and brought it down. The blade entered through Meredith's still open mouth, went through her neck, down through her torso, and exited between her legs. Meredith convulsed once, and then was still.

Hawke waited a moment, then pulled the Celebrant out of the Knight-Commander, and shouted, "Isabella, Anders!" The pirate and the healer immediately ran up to him. "I want you to get one of the ships we used to cross the harbor, and take this," he said, nudging the lyrium sword with his foot, "ten miles off shore, and drop the accursed thing into the ocean. Nodding, Isabella called out orders to one of the crews, and Anders wrapped the sword in a large piece of cloth, so as to avoid directly touching it. Hawke then turned and began walking out of the Gallows, the men and women around him giving him looks of fear and awe.

When he reached the main courtyard, he was approached by Cullen. "Champion, I-" Hawke raised his hand, silencing the Knight-Captain. "You and your remaining men are to vacate the city immediately, Cullen. The Templar Order is banished from Kirkwall, on pain of death." "Champion, please, give us another chance to-" "No, Cullen; I don't not give second chances to any group that orders the women I love, or anyone I care about, assaulted and their mind sundered; you will never earn forgiveness for this. You have 24 hours. If you and your men are not out of this city by then, we renew our attack. And no quarter will be given this time."

With that, Garret began marching out the gate, sidestepping the bodies of militia, templars, mages, and mercenaries that blanketed the courtyard; he saw several familiar faces among them, including Alian and Grace, two of the mages from the Circle of Starkhaven that he had tried to help escape the templars.

As he was nearing the gates, however, he heard a strange noise coming from eagle statue to the left of the now broken gate. Altering his course, he looked behind the statue, and beheld a sight that was almost as horrifying as seeing Alrik about to make Merrill Tranquil.

First Enchanter Orsino had pinned Bethany against the wall of the Gallows, and was kissing her to within an inch of her life. At the same time, Bethany was unclasping the top layer of Orsino's robe.

Deciding he had seen enough, Hawke cleared his throat, and the couple almost jumped out of their skins. Turning toward him, Bethany blushed so fiercely she looked as if she had been dipped in red paint, and Orsino paled so quickly he looked as if he had suffered a mortal wound. Hawke slowly approached the two lovebirds, stopping a few feet away.

"H-H-Hi, Garret," Bethany squeaked. "Hello, Bethany," Hawke replied. Then he turned to the elf. "Ah, First Enchanter Orsino. You watch your ass."

Leaving the First Enchanter to imagine what sorts of horrible punishments the Champion of Kirkwall would inflict upon him if he continued, Hawke exited the Gallows, and got on a boat carrying wounded back to Kirkwall.

**15 minutes later…**

Hawke entered his mansion, closing the door in the faces of the dozens of nobles asking him where he had been, and if he had anything to do with the commotion at the Gallows. He was simply too tired to spend hours talking to those idiots.

Stepping into the main room, he found that Merrill and Leandra had stayed up waiting for him. Upon seeing him, the two women ran up to him and embraced him, sobbing into his chest. Hawke returned their hug, and whispered that everything was fine; that the templars were destroyed in Kirkwall, that Bethany was (for lack of a more appropriate term) okay, than none of their friends were killed or even seriously injured. Eventually, his mother and lover regained control of themselves. They sat down on a nearby couch and, one by one, fell asleep in each other's arms.

Hawke was the last to nod off. As he did, he became aware of a stabbing ache in his shoulder blades. Ignoring it as a possible injury of the battle that he had not noticed until now, Hawke fell asleep at last…..

**-o-0-o-**

"_Word of the slaughter spread quickly," Varric concluded. "The Champion's name became a rallying cry, a reminder that the Templars could not just be defied, but that they could be defeated. He had shown the world that the Chantry had become blind, selfish, and tyrannical, and that he was willing to almost any lengths to oppose and change that. The Circles rose up and set the world on fire."_

"_Here at home, with the Viscount dead and his line defunct, and the Chantry no longer having any power with the exile of the Templars from the city, Kirkwall all but got down on his hands and knees and begged the Champion to rule, and, after much coercion, he agreed to become Viscount."_

"_You still here the stories, of course; with each telling they grow, even if at the core remains the truth."_

"_A new legend had been born." _


	13. Chapter 12

Chapter 12

"So, that's it," Varric concluded. "That's the whole story. And you cannot be a human being and not understand why the Champion did what he did."

Cassandra looked up from the heavy tome she held in her hands, and said, "Then Meredith provoked the Champion; she was to blame!" "I would say so," Varric replied, no small amount of sarcasm and malice in his voice. "Ordering an attack on one's soulmate would tend to ender negative feelings."

"Just tell me one thing then," Cassandra said, dreading the answer. "Is there any chance that Garret Hawke will assist us in ending this war?"

"There might have been, if you had simply asked me nicely."

Hearing the voice behind her, Cassandra spun around, and Varric leaned to the side to get a better look. At the center of the large room that Varric's interrogation was held, stood Viscount Garret Hawke. He stood at his full height, rather considerable, height, and was wearing his Champion's armor. The silver crown worn by Kirkwall's Viscounts was on his brow, and he was wearing a large, leathery cape made to look like dragon wings.

He was also holding his sword, The Celebrant, in his right hand; it was coated with blood. Behind and to the right of him, Seeker Leliana stood bound and held in place by Guard-Captain Aveline and the Tevinter elf, Fenris, who was wearing the Kirkwall's Guard's armor. Behind them, stood several other guardsmen, Ser Thrask, First Enchanter Orsino, and two other mages.

"Apparently, the servants of the Chantry are rather slow learners, in addition to being hypocritical zealots," Garret spat at the Seeker, taking several steps toward her. "I am sure you already know what I did to Meredith and her Templars for what that whore had done to Merrill; what in the Maker's name made you believe that kidnapping one of my best friends was a good idea?"

Cassandra sank back before the Viscount's advance, knowing that Hawke and his companions had just slaughtered her entire company. She began stuttering. "It….it seemed to be the best course of action available to us." "The best course of action?" Garret sneered. "Has it ever occurred to you people to _not_ to deliberately piss off anyone who is not one of you?"

"Please, Champion, just listen to me," Cassandra interrupted. Garret's eyes narrowed. "To what; excuses for Meredith's behavior? That the Chantry is right simply because it is the Chantry?" "No, to a plea for help," Cassandra explained.

"The world is in chaos, Champion. All the Circles of Magi have rebelled against the Chantry, as almost all of the Templars; their cat-and-mouse game has left a path of destruction that has brought ruin to almost every inch of Thedas. And it is not merely the former servants and wards of the Chantry that are causing this mess; every nation is in some form of upheaval. If it is not stopped soon, the Chantry may be undone forever."

"Good riddance." Hawke replied; there was a strong note of finality in his voice. "And you don't want help, you want a poster child; you want to be able to say that the mighty Garret Hawke, Viscount and Champion of Kirkwall, supports you, so that you can get a stranglehold on the continent, and have an excuse to slaughter every mage in existence, along with all who oppose you. That is not happening."

"Not all of us desire war, Viscount. You must help us Garret Hawke." Cassandra paused, searching for the right words. "You are a hero, a man the mages would listen to, someone who was there at the beginning. You could stop this madness before it is too late; you may be the only one who can. Please, Champion, we only want the world to go back to the way it was."

"Well, that is the problem," Hawke responded coolly. "You see, Cassandra Pentaghast, I _**don't**_ want the world to go back to the way it was, because that would mean going back to people like myself living in constant fear; fear that their father and sister would be taken away, fear that their sons and daughters would be killed simply for being born with magic, fear that the ones they loved with all their hearts would be ripped away from them. It would mean going back to the Chantry killing any who protested against it in any way, while the Revered Mothers and Grand Clerics happily ignored every single one of their own laws. It would mean going back to a world I despise. So if a few years of chaos and anarchy are required to ensure the world _**never**_ returns to what it once was, it is a price I will gladly pay, for unlike some, I don't fear what lies ahead nearly enough to cling to what was."

Cassandra's brow wrinkled, trying to think of another way to convince Garret to assist them. She was alone and Hawke had a dozen men with him, so she could not threaten him; she had already tried to appeal to his better nature of stopping the insanity in Thedas before any more innocents were harmed, only to find out he _wanted _the chaos. She settled on her last option, possibly the most despicable of them all: bribery.

"If you assist the Chantry in regaining control of Thedas," the Seeker said slowly, testing the waters, "then we will make it worth your while."

Hawke threw his head back and uttered a short, mirthless laugh. "And what," he asked, "could the Chantry possibly give me that I don't already have? I have so much coin I don't know what to do with it all! I am the Viscount of Kirkwall, and the High King of the Southern and Western Free Marches-it is amazing how fear of extermination by templar can overcome the Free Marcher cities' fear of losing their independence- and am loved and respected by almost all my subjects, mainly because I have actually done a good job ruling this new nation. I have a wonderful, kind mother, the sweetest younger sister, and a very brave, courageous, and wise brother-in-law. And the most beautiful, wonderful woman in Thedas is my wife, and has given me two wonderful sons. I have everything anyone could ever want, and many things I never thought to ask for. What could you have that I do not already posses?"

"Eternity."

Everyone turned to look at the person who had spoken; Sister Leliana. When no one moved to silence her, she continued. "Yes, you have built a mighty state here, Viscount. And you have accomplished more than many men could do in a lifetime. But all these things are finite; eventually, the empire you have built will fall, your family members will age and die, as will you. You have done many things in your life, but eventually it will fade. But if you give yourself to the Maker, if you set aside these worldly things, then you will have true peace, true belonging, when you earn the Maker's favor."

Hawke crossed his arms. "Sister Nightingale," he said, calling Leliana by her alias she used to remain incognito, "if I do not yet have the Maker's favor, then how have I done all the things that I have done?" The red-headed Seeker did not reply.

Alternating between looking at each Seeker, Hawke continued, "Hear me, and hear me well; the only way that we can ever gain the Maker's favor is by doing the right thing wherever and whenever we can, and hope that that is enough. That is what I have done my whole life, and that is what I will do now. Whether we go to the Maker's side is up to the Maker, not me, not you, and not the Chantry."

Hawke paused, and then said, "Fenris, Aveline, let her go." The two Gaurdsmen released the Chantry sister, and untied her. "Go back to Val Royeaux, and tell Divine Justinia that if the Chantry wants to survive this, then they will have to admit that they were wrong, and change their ways to adapt to the changes that have gone on in the 900 years since its founding. Otherwise, it will wither and die."

As the two Seekers were leaving, Garret spoke again. "And Cassandra?" The Pentaghast turned to the Viscount, and Hawke continued; "a wise, old women once told me that the world was on the precipice of change, and the world was about to fall into an abyss. She said to watch for that moment, and when it came, not to hesitate to leap, for it is only when you fall that you learn whether you can fly."

Cassandra's eyes narrowed. "What did you do, Viscount?" Garret smiled, and then his wing-shaped cape extended out and up. _No,_ Cassandra suddenly realized. _Not a cape._

Garret Hawke had wings; giant, majestic dragon wings that were three times longer than he was tall when fully extended.

Now smiling, Garret continued. "I did as she does; I became a dragon."

And with a final wave of his hand as he pulled his wings back behind his back, the two Seekers knew it was time to leave.

The two stepped between the group that had assembled behind them, shrinking back from the gazes of hatred and distrust. In lands controlled by the Chantry, they were used to being treated with respect, admiration, and a small amount of fear. Here, they were symbols of oppression.

When they exited the building, they gasped. They knew that the company of Seekers that accompanied them was dead, but that did not prepare them for the sight of their dead comrades lying bleeding out on the ground.

Taking a deep breath through her mouth, Cassandra said, "Garret Hawke will not assist us and, according to you, sister, Alistair and Elizabeth Theirin are of a similar mindset. This does not bode well." "No," Leliana sighed, "it does not."

Cassandra waited a moment, and then asked, "What do we do now?"

Leliana turned to her and said, "It is in the Maker's hands now. We put our faith in him."

And with that, the duo began to make their way towards the docks to take their ship back to Val Royeaux.


	14. Chapter 13

Chapter 13

**A.N. Just a word of warning, this is the longest chapter I have written and will likely resemble a history lecture. I apologize to those who hate such things, but the events that transpired in Thedas after the Battle of the Gallows have to be fleshed out somehow!**

_Two weeks after Varric's interrogation… _

Hawke entered the Viscount's Keep, flanked by four Guardsmen. In truth, they were not required to keep him safe; he was more than capable of meeting any threat. But Aveline didn't see things that way, stating that he had made more than his share of enemies over the course of his rise to power, and thus assigned some of her best men as his personal guard. Hawke found it both unnecessary and wasteful; surely there was more important work for these guards to be doing. The Guard-Captain had been unmovable, however, even going so far as to threaten to abdicate her position as Guard-Captain. Knowing he could not find anyone with so much ability to replace her, Hawke swallowed his pride and learned to tolerate his new shadows.

Eventually, he reached his office. There were two signs on the door; the first read "The Office of Viscount Garret Hawke." The second, positioned just underneath the first, was one Garret had made and hung up himself after his first weak on the job, which mainly consisted of nobles bickering at each other for the most ridiculous matters possible. It read, "There will be a 5 sovereign fee for whining."

He enforced it, too.

Leaving the guards at the door, Hawke entered his office, sat at what had once been Dumar's desk, and began reading various messages and reports that had come in. These ranged from reports on rouge bands of templars, bandits or slavers in the Kirkwall vicinity, as well the general status of his newly built empire, which he had decided to name The Kirkwall Protectorate. He also received messages concerning the current, rather abysmal state of Thedas as a whole.

There was so much chaos and upheaval going on that it was difficult to know where to start describing it.

In the Anderfells, after the Templar Order rebelled against the Chantry to hunt mages on their own terms, the Templar Order had assassinated the Ander King, along with the entire royal family. They immediately set up a new regime centered entirely around one thing; destroying every mage in the country. Any mages found resisting were put to death without question; any who surrendered were made Tranquil on the spot. Then, the Templars ordered the Grey Wardens, who were based in the country, to surrender all their mages to them. The First Warden, commander of the Wardens, refused, citing the need for the mages against the Darkspawn. With no more provocation than that, the Anderfell Templars began a war to exterminate the Grey Wardens. The Wardens, who ranked among the greatest warriors in the known world, easily held of the blind, zealot templars, but, from what Hawke heard, did not counter-attack, in an attempt to not disrupt their efforts against the darkspawn. Thus, the Anderfells, already half destroyed by wars and two separate Blights, was locked in a bitter civil war, with what was left of the country being devastated even further with each passing day.

The Tevinter Imperium, unfortunately, was taking the Mage-Templar war in stride. When the Circles of Magi rebelled against the Chantry, many apostates and younger Circle mages fled to the Mage-ruled country. While many openly wondered why the mages would flee toward such an evil nation, it made grim sense to Hawke; the Imperium held a promise of power to those who had always been powerless. The wretched Magisters of Tevinter wasted no time reaching out to the desperate mages; they offered Imperial citizenship and protection from the Chantry in exchange for their services in the Imperial army. Many mages in Northern Thedas raced to the call, and soon every tenth Tevinter soldier was a mage. With this influx of magical talent, the Imperium launched an assault on the Qunari-held island of Seheron. The Magisters had been wasting thousands of lives on the island over the centuries, but had always lost because of the Qunari's superior technology, namely their cannons. Now, however, because of the enormous number of mages in their forces, the Tevinters managed to overwhelm the Qunari, and drove them off the island entirely. A few weeks later, a massive Qunari armada, containing hundreds of ships, descended on Minrathous, the capital of the Imperium; the Qunari had actually allowed the Imperium victory on Seharon in order to slip their dreadnoughts around the island unnoticed. In a final, desperate effort to hold them off, every Magister in the city executed a massive blood ritual, the likes of which had not been seen since ancient times when the ancient Magisters sank the elven city of Arlathan; draining the blood of several hundred slaves, the Magisters used blood magic created a massive whirlpool that sank all but five of the Qunari dreadnoughts. With the massive force they had been building for decades obliterated in an instant, the Qunari were forced to sue for peace. In the terms of the treaty, the Tevinter Imperium retained complete control of Seharon, and received a recipe for the Qunari black powder explosives, though the latter proved to be a forgery, and was completely useless to the Magisters.

In Nevarra, a similar situation formed to what was happening in the Anderfells; the Templars and the secular ruler of the nation, the Van Markham, both mobilizing their forces for a confrontation, with mages running around in between the two powers. Then, everything changed for the nation; the Tevinter Imperium, deciding that it was not satisfied with Seharon (big shock!), launched a surprise invasion of the country. The Van Markham, Templars, and mages of Nevarra set aside their distrust of each other, and marched on the Imperium's forces together, and managed to halt the empire's advance; with the Templars in the army pitted against them, the Imperium's mages were rendered impotent, and they lost the edge they had against the Qunari. Still, it was taking all of Nevarra's resources just to keep the Imperium in a stalemate; if the Imperium was defeated, or chose to withdrawal, Hawke knew that the hasty alliance between the three groups would shatter like hot glass plunged into ice water.

In Antiva, there was less official panic; trapped by the Imperium to the west, and the Mage-pro Free Marches to the south, the Templars had simply got on ships and went back to Val Royeaux. This lead to the local populace taking matters into their own hands, and many mobs attempted to lynch mages for any reason that came to mind; horrible, but far easier to control. Unofficially, the nation was in as much chaos as the rest of Thedas; the House of Crows, Antiva's greatest guild of assassin's, were being systematically destroyed by a rouge member of their guild, an elf named Zevran Arainai. Hawke had personally helped the former Crow whip out a group of Crows sent to kill him three years ago. Since then, Zevran had convinced half the Crow cells to rebel with him, and the House of Crows waged a miniature civil war across the nation. To any other country, assassins killing each other instead of paid targets would be good news, but in Antiva, the destruction of the Crows would be disastrous; while they boasted the best assassin's in Thedas, Antiva's military track record was atrocious. Without their famous assassins to threaten to assassinate any general who dared invade the country, the kingdom would be completely defenseless.

In Rivain, Isabella's homeland, things remained largely unchanged; as the majority of the population did not practice the Chantry's faith, the Templar Order had almost no presence in the country.

But nowhere on the continent was chaos and destruction more rampant than once beautiful and powerful Orlais. The center of Chantry power, and the single most powerful human nation on the continent, the Orlesian Empire too was locked in Civil War, only this internal conflict was larger and more savage than the fighting in the Anderfells and Nevarra combined. It was being fought between the Loyalists, the group that supported the current Orlesain Empress, Celine, who wanted to consolidate the Empire in preparation for the chaos that was engulfing the world. The rebels, who called themselves the Expansionists, wanted to use the disorder to roll over all opposition and conquer the entire continent, bringing the world under permanent Orlesian control. The two groups were fighting everywhere in the empire, leveling everything the nation had worked to build, and neither side was accomplishing much of anything. Add in the thousands of rouge Templars raiding the country side for mages and lyrium to feed their addiction to the substance, and it was a wonder the entire nation wasn't one continuous firestorm. What was worse, rumors were starting to reach the Protectorate that the Expansionists had declared genocide on Orlais's elven population. Hawke could only pray that those rumors weren't true.

Only in the Free Marches and Fereldan was there any measure of peace and stability. Up until Hawke had whipped them out, Kirkwall had been the center of Templar power in the Free Marches and Fereldan. By whipping them out three years ago, Hawke had shattered the Order in both regions. King Alistair and Queen Elizabeth, also known as the Hero of Fereldan after ending the Fifth Blight, lost no time in throwing the Templar Order out of their country. Hawke himself had met Alistair; he had been in an argument with Knight-Commander Meredith shortly before Hawke had launched his attack on the Gallows. Apparently, the Theirins held the same views about mages and templars as he did.

After the Order was banished from Fereldan, the monarchs set up schools to teach mages how to control their gifts in every major city of Fereldan, allowing the young mages to remain as close to their family's as possible. They had also persuaded an underground group of mages that called themselves the Mage's Collective to come out of hiding, showing the people of Fereldan that mages had been living among them for some time, and nothing horrendous had ever happened.

There were rouge Blood Mages in the country, of course, but King Alistair, like Hawke, had a Templar's anti-magic abilities, and personally trained a sizable force of warriors in the arts in order to combat these wannna-be Magisters.

At the same time, in Kirkwall, Hawke had been inundated with dozens of pleas for help from other Free Marcher cities as far down the coast as Hercenia, and as far north as Wildervale, all begging him to assist them against drive out the Templars in their cities, or to help them defeat attempted takeovers from the Order. Garret had eventually sent out a blanket message to every city that had contacted him saying that Kirkwall, while powerful, did not have the resources to defend half the Free Marches, and thus the only way he could help them was if they chose to set aside their distrust for their neighbors and join together under a single banner. Hawke was confident that the Free Marchers' fear of losing their independence would be enough to keep them from even considering the idea of an alliance, and he would be freed of the burden of having to force a pack of dogs to share a steak.

It therefore came as a complete surprise to him to find out what the leaders of those cities did next.

Not only did every city contact agree to an alliance, they also agreed to swear fealty to him, provided they were allowed to retain their positions as rulers of their cities. Hawke accepted, on the condition that if he ever called upon them for any matter they would respond. The various rulers agreed, and they all signed what eventually became known as the Treaty of Kirkwall, establishing The Kirkwall Protectorate, and declaring Hawke High-King. Combining their forces and cooperating with their neighbors, the members of the Protectorate were able to defeat every group of Templars throughout the fledgling empire; the battles, and the hunt for surviving pockets of the Order, took slightly over a year. Once it was finished, The Kirkwall Protectorate had secured their position, and, unofficially, declared itself as a new power on the continent. This also left Hawke with the legislative nightmare of refereeing the nobility in every city in the southern Free Marches.

After that was done, Hawke received word from Sebastian; the heir to the throne of Starkhaven had decided to reclaim his lands, deciding that he needed to lead his city in this time of crisis. Hawke had immediately backed his claim, and Sebastian had sent a message to his cousin, who had claimed to be the true ruler of the city, explaining that he was returning to claim what was rightfully his, and that half the Free Marches would be supporting his claim.

Sebastian had described his cousin as being "a bit simple", but when they met with him, Hawke realized that Sebastian was being kind; the man was a hopeless dope. He was also completely miserable; ruling one of the largest cities in the Free Marches simply wasn't for him. He had agreed to abdicate the throne on one condition; that he be able to retire to his estate and be left in peace. Glad to have a peaceful transition of power, Sebastian accepted the deal. The news that the Sebastian had taken over as Prince was met with joy from the populace of Starkhaven; ever since the coup that slaughtered the man's family, and under the dubious rule of his cousin, the city had been in an almost continuous state of turmoil, which Sebastian quickly put an end to.

Almost immediately, the newly-crowned Prince of Starkhaven faced a similar situation to what Hawke faced when he became Viscount; the cities in the northern and eastern Free Marches were too far away from Kirkwall for Hawke to provide protection for them. Therefore, these distant cities turned to Sebastian Veal, and Starkhaven for support. Sebastian, and the leaders of the cities seeking his assistance in Ansburg, and signed the Treaty of Ansburg, which established The Starkhaven Alliance. Unlike The Kirkwall Protectorate, The Starkhaven Alliance was simply an agreement of cooperation between the cities of the northern and eastern Free Marches, though as Starkhaven was the largest and most powerful member, Sebastian Veal had de facto control. The Alliance lost no time in mimicking Kirkwall and Fereldan in kicking the Templar Order out of their borders.

Once the immediate effects of such radical changes in power were dealt with, both Hawke and Sebastian copying the Theirins, and established Colleges of Magi, as they had decided to rename the Circles, in each and every city under their control. At first, Hawke had been concerned that the wars going on in Thedas would interrupt the supply of lyrium; the mages needed the substance to help fuel spells, and also to enchant various objects with magical properties. Fortunately, he need not he need not have worried; ever since the Hero of Fereldan had installed Bhelen Aeducan as King of Orzammar, one of the two remaining dwarven cities, trade between Varric's reclusive race and the surface of Thedas had increased dramatically. Because of this, a steady supply of lyrium was always within reach.

The fact that the only known entrance to the underground city was within Fereldan territory helped too.

These events also took approximately one year to unfold. By this time, the chaos in Thedas was on in full. Refugees flooded into the three rebel countries daily, rouge lyrium-deprived templars tried to cross into the borders on self-proclaimed holy missions or just to kill anyone that stood between them and "the dust." Hawke had immediately started setting up refugee camps throughout the Protectorate, overriding the complaints of the many nobles in Kirkwall complaining about them over the most unbelievably idiotic things, including "the camps will spoil the view from my manor", and "the smell of the peasants will offend me." The only good that came of those meetings with the "nobility" of Kirkwall was that Hawke was able to collect over 500 sovereigns in fees.

Just seven months ago, another enormous step had been taken; Alistair and Elizabeth had contacted both Hawke and Sebastian, and had asked them to agree to an alliance with Fereldan, in order to better protect themselves against the chaos and disorder gripping Thedas. The three powers had already grown close of a common policy of ruling, and response to the Mage-Templar conflict, so agreeing to an alliance was simple for both the Viscount of Kirkwall and the Prince of Starkhaven. So, Alistair, Elizabeth, Hawke, Sebastian, and the many rulers of the city-states of the Starkhaven Alliance all signed the Treaty of Denerim, forming The Triple Alliance, between The Kingdom of Fereldan, The Kirkwall Protectorate, and the Starkhaven Alliance.

Which lead them to the present day.

Hawke was jolted from his daydreams by a knock on the door. Grimacing, as he was under the impression that he would now be swamped with politicians, grumbling nobles, and perhaps even another messenger from the Knight-Valiant, the Templar commander-in-chief, demanding that he open his borders to Templars still under Chantry command, Hawke said, "Enter."

**A.N. **

**I again apologize for the history lecture. **


	15. Chapter 14

Chapter 14

Instead of another snippy noble, though, it was Merrill. "Good morning, ma vhenan; I hope I'm not interrupting anything." Smiling, Hawke stood up from the desk, and crossed over to his wife and pulled her into a hug. "Merrill," Garret said, "we have been through this before; I don't mind you interrupting me when I have to work on running this empire. In fact, I _prefer_ that you to interrupt me, so that I have a good excuse to get as far away from it as possible." Giggling, Merrill kissed Garret on both cheeks.

In the aftermath of the Battle of the Gallows, Hawke had planned on devoting every moment of his time helping Merrill recover from Alrik's attack on her, a plan that was sunk as soon as he woke up the morning after the battle, and was greeted with the feeling of someone repeatedly stabbing lava-coated spears into his shoulder blades. He had been incapacitated with pain for almost a month. Leandra had sent out a story that Hawke was sick, which was pretty close to the truth; Hawke had certainly _felt_ like he was deathly ill. When the pain had finally stopped, Hawke had woken from his semi-coma to find that he had grown two dragon wings out of his shoulders, each one 18 feet long, though when he folded them behind his back, they compressed to just under 7 feet.

After that trial was passed, Hawke dedicated himself to helping Merrill, in exclusion to all else. Eventually, after another six months, Merrill finally began showing signs of improvement. It was at that point that Hawke finally accepted the numerous messages being sent to him from various members of the city, and agreed to become Viscount, as the city, with the death of both the Viscount and the Templar Knight-Commander, had no ruler. Even then, he had kept minimum oversight of the city and the Protectorate, delegating a lot of work to the more trustworthy nobility, Aveline, and Seneschal Bran in order to be with his lover more. By the time the vestiges of the Templar Order had been dealt with, Merrill was back to her old, cheerful, naïve self, though she was still occasionally troubled by nightmares, especially when the anniversary of the assault came around.

After that, Hawke took a more active role in running The Kirkwall Protectorate, confident that he was not abandoning his lover to misery. During that time, he recruited the rebel templars who had assisted him in the Battle of the Gallows, as well as any who had mutinied against knight-commanders who had declared all mages lives forfeit in the days after the spark that ignited all this chaos, into the Kirkwall Guard, as an elite unit meant to combat rogue blood mages, abominations, and the Tevinter Imperium's slavers. He also ended the practice of giving Templars lyrium; while Hawke wielded the same abilities (a practical choice given how often he was assaulted by insane blood mages, demons, and abominations) he had never used lyrium, instead focusing on improving his abilities through practice. This turned out to be a very good idea; while the Chantry claimed that ingesting lyrium significantly improved templar abilities, Hawke had found this claim to be a gross exaggeration. Hawke had been using Templar abilities for six years now, and the strength of his abilities was hardly different than Templars who had been serving the Chantry for the same amount of time. Add in the fact that any non-mages who consumed lyrium eventually became addicted to the substance, and the practice was simply a way for the Chantry to control their army.

This, in retrospect, meant that the templars were just as much prisoners as the mages they oppressed. Their prison was simply less obvious.

In any case, Hawke had proposed to Merrill just after the formation of the Starkhaven Alliance. She had been overjoyed, and had later confessed that she believed that Hawke didn't to continue their relationship after what Alrik and his accomplices did to her, and was simply helping her out of pity.

Hawke had done a pretty good job convincing her otherwise. By the time the happy couple "came up for air", four days had passed.

Garret and Merril were married as the Starkhaven Alliance finished expunging the Templar Order from its territory. It had been a small, simple ceremony, just their friends and Hawke's family. Garret had decided to risk being shot full of arrows and went to the camp where Merrill's clan was camped to invite them to the wedding, but found that the Dalish had already left. Hawke wished them well, wherever they had gone.

After the wedding, Garret and Merrill had taken a brief honeymoon to Starkhaven, which allowed them to both enjoy themselves, and guarantee cooperation between the two new powers, though with Sebastian firmly installed as Prince of Starkhaven, it was a foregone conclusion. Eventually, the newlyweds were forced to bite the bullet and return to Kirkwall, where Hawke was in a constant state of frustration with ruling his empire, and Merrill had the job of keeping him sane. Then, 9 months after the signing of the Treaty of Ansburg, they received some very good, while at the same time scary, news; Merrill was pregnant.

Up until then, Hawke hadn't thought it was possible to happy and terrified at the same time.

After spending another nine months alternating between being the happiest man in Thedas and having massive panic attacks, Merrill finally gave birth to two healthy young boys exactly a month after the Hawke signed the Treaty of Denerim. Anders, the healer who had helped deliver Hawke and Merrill's sons, said it was one of the easiest first births he had ever witnessed. Hawke had almost strangled the possessed healer when he heard him say that; Merrill had been in agony for 4 hours, and Anders had the nerve to say that that was _easy?_

Still, when all was said and done, Merrill made a full recovery, and they named their boys, who were completely identical, Malcolm and Carver, after Garrets late father and brother, respectively. After that, Hawke and Merrill settled down into the duties of parents, which in Garret's opinion were twice as difficult as running the Kirkwall Protectorate, but were ten times more enjoyable.

As for the rest of his companions, they too had settled into their own niches within the radically changed society. Fenris had joined the Guard's new unit, in spite of the racial prejudice against elves. Eventually, Fenris became fed up with the other guards' slurs and hatred, and had publicly challenged his fellow recruits to try and take him down. Twenty men had tried, and all of them were sent running with their tails between their legs, while Fenris didn't even have a scratch. Needless to say, no one bother the former slave after that, and Thrask, leader of this new group of guards, had made Fenris one of his lieutenants.

Anders, meanwhile, had taken a position as a healer and teacher at Kirkwall's College of Magi, which was the new name for the Gallows, which had been redecorated and redesigned to no longer resemble the soul-crushing machine that it once was. After the Battle of the Gallows, Anders had told Hawke that the demon of Vengeance that had possessed him was beginning to resemble the spirit of Justice he had once been; apparently helping Hawke spark a revolution, as well as mages being allowed to use their powers freely, at least in the areas held by the Triple Alliance, had calmed the spirit. Anders still ran a free clinic, but now did so openly, and had numerous other healers assisting him. Whenever he wasn't working at the clinic, he taught mages at the College how to become Spirit Healers, teaching them how to harness the beneficial spirits of the Fade to augment their healing abilities.

Varric continued to do what he had always done; run his businesses, avoid the Merchant's Guild meetings, and tell wildly exaggerated tales of Hawke's exploits to anyone who would listen, although recently the sarcastic dwarf was playfully complaining that, since Hawke could now fly and breath fire, it was a lot harder to exaggerate his wild tales.

Aveline's position was essentially unchanged; she was still Guard Captain, still socially awkward, and still adorable whenever Donnic was around. The only thing that had changed for her was that she too was now expecting; she had found out she was pregnant just a month ago.

As for Isabella, Hawke had commissioned a small fleet of 12 galleys to patrol the waters controlled by Kirkwall in order to ward off the raider crews that regularly preyed on sea traffic, and had requested the former pirate to lead the small fleets. Overjoyed at the prospect of finally being able to captain a ship again, Isabella had happily agreed. Since then, working with other such naval forces, and using the same tactics that the pirates used, the raiders were quickly put out of business in the waters around the Kirkwall Protectorate, though some brave (or stupid ) pirate captains continued to test the hunter-killers.

As for Bethany, she had continued her relationship with Orsino in spite of Garret finding out about it. Hawke, however, felt, as he was Bethany's older brother, that it was his sworn duty to run the First Enchanter off. He tried everything he could think of; he tried having some of Varric's spies follow the two around, interrupted them whenever he got the chance, and sent several barely polite messages to Orsino, who was now the head of Kirkwall's College of Magi. Eventually, Bethany had found the guts to confront Hawke, and what followed could be described as the fight to end all fights. Bethany had shrieked at Garret for an hour; she said that she had been with Orsino since a year before the Qunari had attacked the city, meaning they had been seeing each other longer than Hawke and Merrill had, and that she was 25 years old now, so she could take care of herself. Hawke, at that point, knew he was wrong, but his pride and deeply engrained urge to protect his baby sister refused to allow him to back down. Thus, in a last ditch effort, he unleashed his most underhanded and despicable ploy; he threatened to tell their mother that Bethany and Orsino were together.

The look of terror on Bethany's face when he dropped that bombshell was priceless.

Unfortunately, Bethany decided to break the news to Leandra personally, and, far from being angry, their mother had been overjoyed that her baby girl had found someone she loved. Thus, what Garret had thought was his greatest weapon turned out to be complete dud, and was forced to apologize to his sister and his now soon-to-be brother-in-law and wish them well.

Just then, the door to Hawke's office slammed open, and the couple sprang apart in surprise. There, in the doorway, stood a very irate Anders. Pointing an accusing finger at Merrill, he shouted, "Alright, elf, why did you do it?" "What, me, no, when?" Merrill stammered. "I saw you going through my grimior the other day! You can't do that, those are private!" "I know," Merrill replied, "that's why I-"

Realizing she had just incriminated herself, Merrill blushed, averted her eyes, and started wringing her hands. "Alright, fine, I admit it. I was hoping that you would have, um…._dirty spells."_ This took Anders aback, and the Spirit Healer cocked an eyebrow. "Dirty spells?" he asked.

Merrill started turning scarlet. "Yes, to make things…..more exciting. Oh, I shouldn't have said anything." "More exciting?" Anders asked, and then apprehension filled his face. "For you and Hawke!"

Garret couldn't stand it anymore; he threw back his head and laughed until tears formed in his eyes and he was banging his fist on the wall.


	16. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

When evening finally arrived, Garret and Merrill finally left the keep, and began heading back to their mansion. It had been a trying day yet again; more and more nobles filled into his office, offering complaints over Garret's accepting of the refugees and his demands that the various guilds search the camps for uprooted craftsman, trying to convince him to reimburse them for everything from lost cargo to missing pets, or simply to try and convince him to come to a party that they were hosting. The last ones were the group Hawke found to be the most insufferable; so much work needed to be done, yet they wasted coin and time trying to rub their influence and wealth in the other nobles' faces, and Hawke had no tolerance for it. Fortunately, Merrill had stayed with Hawke the entire time, and her mere presence was enough to sooth his irritation long enough to avoid throwing the culprits bodily from the keep.

Now, they were walking back home hand in hand, hoping to spend some time with their sons, before the little tikes fell asleep.

Suddenly, Hawke sounds coming from a different area of Hightown; cursing, scuffling, and crying. Ever since Hawke had awaken from his wing transformation, he had also noticed that his senses, such as hearing, smell, and sight, had become far more developed, as well as an increased reaction time and raw physical strength.

Drawing his belt knife, he started running toward the sound with Merrill close behind, her hands glowing emerald as she prepared to use magic. When they reached the scene of the disturbance they found a heart wrenching sight; three ladies, dressed in noble garb, who Hawke recognized as the wife and daughters of the Comte de Launce, were crying and pleading with a guardsman, who was dragging their brother, who was disoriented and caked with dried blood away. An instant later, Hawke recognized the guardsman as Fenris.

Running up to his companion, Hawke shouted, "Fenris, what is going on here." Fenris turned his scowl on Garret. "This mage, Emile de Launce, has admitted to being a blood mage; I am here to deal with him." "Oh, is that what this is about," Emile stammered. "Look guardsman, I am not a blood mage." Fenris turned to the nobleman, a look of supreme disbelief on his face. Emile cleared his throat, and then continued. "I started that rumor because I thought it would make me look dangerous and, ah, suave."

Hawke brought his hand up to his face with a resounding slap, and Merrill narrowed her eyes and asked, "Isn't it more likely to cause a panic and bring Fenris after you?"

"This is a trick, Hawke," Fenris growled. "This mage is trying to make himself seem harmless." "No, Fenris," Hawke replied, face still covered by his hand. "I think he _really _is that pathetic." "Thank you, Viscount," Emile replied. "I think."

Fenris was still not convinced, and insisted on dragging Emile away. Eventually, Hawke pacified the agitated elf by promising to assign two anti-magic guardsmen to watch Emile at all times for the next two weeks in order to see if there was any type of evidence that Emile practiced blood magic. That finally convinced Fenris, and he released Emile, though reluctantly. After the de Launcets finally left, Fenris turned the Viscount and Viscountess, and said, "Merrill", in a flat tone that held an undercurrent of distrust and suspicion, though it had lost the usual hatred every since Merrill had given up blood magic for good. "Fenris," Merrill replied, her voice sweet and kind as usual; in spite of all the grief that Fenris and Anders had given her, Merrill always spoke to them respectfully, one of the many things that Hawke admired about her.

"Still not an abomination, I see." Fenris continued. At this, Merrill's eyes narrowed, and in a sarcastic voice that was unlike her, replied "Oh, let's see: Not insane, not deformed, not attacking everyone. No, I think I'm still good." "Such a relief," Fenris muttered, rolling his eyes. He then began walking back to the barracks to report to Thrask about Hawke's orders to have Emile put under guard, but stopped as Garret and Merrill began walking in the same direction. "Why are you following me?" he asked. "We aren't," Hawke replied. "We are simply going in the same direction as you." "Ah," the guardsman replied, then continued on his way.

Eventually, they came to the center of Hightown, where the three parted ways, Fenris to the Keep, where the guard barracks was located, and Merrill and Garret to their mansion. Before they got halfway there, however, they were interrupted.

"Viscount, could I have a moment, please?" Turning, Hawke saw the one person that he would least like to see; Lord Cavril, head of the most arrogant, self-absorbed, insufferable, moronic noble families in the entire city, and possibly all of Thedas.

Hawke wanted nothing more than to ignore the man and increase his pace until he could reach his mansion and barricade himself in, but knew that, as the man who had defeated the Qunari Arishock, who had been seven and a half feet tall and wielded a giant war axe and broadsword in each hand, he should show some more grit. Therefore, he stopped, held his distaste in check, and answered; "Good evening, Lord Cavril; what do you wish to discuss?"

In Hawke's opinion, there could be no better visual representation for the lazy and self-focused attitude of the majority of Kirkwall's nobility than Lord Cavril; he was clothed in cloth and jewelry so decedent and extravagant that he appeared ridiculous, he was so fat it seemed a miracle that his legs could bare his weight, and he had a distinct aura of arrogance that practically dripped off him. And Hawke knew from experience that it was not a shell that hid a kind-hearted man; Lord Cavril was, by all accounts, an unscrupulous, immoral, self-serving man. If anything got between him and something he wanted, it died, or soon wished it was dead.

Hawke saw that Cavril was starting to speak, and cut his mental assassination of the man's character (or lack thereof) short. "I just wanted to remind you, Viscount that my daughter will soon come of age." With a sickening sensation that he knew where this discussion was headed, Hawke gritted his teeth together, and nodded. "Yes, I remember. I assume that you have already engaged her." "I have had several offers," Cavril replied pompously. "However, I was hoping that we could arrange between my daughter and yourself. It is my understanding that you require an heir."

Hawke's entire bearing darkened considerably. _Of course,_ he thought. _He wants in on the power and influence of being family with me. He'll probably have me__** and**__ his daughter assassinated, so that he can try to seize power. _Trying once again not to smash his fist into the man's blubbery face, Garret replied, "I appreciate your concern for the stability of the city and the Protectorate, Lord Cavril, but you are mistaken; I have an heir. In fact, I have two." Lord Cavril simply scoffed. "Oh, come now, Viscount. You can't possibly consider actually giving your wealth and station to your Dalish whore's whelps."

To say that Garret was angry with Cavril would be comparable to saying that lava was slightly warm. He was furious. The man had, in one fell swoop, insulted half his family in a manner that he would not tolerate. And he spoke of Merrill as if she was not even present, as if her thoughts or even her presence was irrelevant. Which, in retrospect, that is probably what he thought.

Just as he was about to burn the pompous jackass alive, however, a small, tattooed fist entered his vision and smashed into Cavril's jaw, knocking one of his teeth loose.

"YOU WILL NOT INSULT MY CHILDREN IN FRONT OF ME, _LORD CAVRIL," _Merrill shrieked, her normally small, sweet voice ringing with rage, "OR I WILL SHUT YOUR MOUTH _FOR YOU!"_ She repeatedly smashed her fists into Cavril's face, chest, and stomach, quickly reducing the lord to a wheezing, bloodied punching bag. Hawke briefly wondered why Merrill bothered with magic at all; from what he was seeing, the women could take on an army with her bare hands.

Eventually, Lord Cavril stumbled back against a wall near one of the stairways, breathed heavily, then straightened up, turned his furious gaze on Merrill, and shouted, "You knife-eared bitch! I'll-"

Whatever Cavril was going to do, they never got to find out, because at that moment Merrill launched a Stonefist spell at the noble, who barely ducked in time to avoid it. The rock missile smashed into the corner of the wall, and sent fragments of stone, both natural and summoned, everywhere. Cavril looked at the hole, then at Merrill, who was beginning to summon another projectile. At that point, the noble turned and fled as fast as bulk would allow.

With that, Merrill allowed the emerald glow around her hands to dissipate, and walked back to Hawke, who was staring at her with open-mouthed amazement. Suddenly, Merrill started looking nervous. "I'm sorry Hawke; I shouldn't have done that. I know you need the nobility's support to run the Kirkwall Protectorate and I just-" she stopped talking as Hawke put his hands on her cheeks.

"Sometimes," Garret said softly, "I forget just how powerful you really are."

Just then, they heard whistling from across the courtyard, and looked up to see Isabella, who began smiling and wiggling her hips suggestively.

With the moment now completely ruined, Merrill and Garret walked the short distance remaining to their home and entered, eager to get away from the world for a moment.

Just as they closed the door, Bethany walked into the entrance hallway, wearing a beautiful blue silk dress, make-up, and she had curled her hair. Upon seeing her, Merrill gasped and covered her mouth. "Oh, Bethany, you look wonderful." The younger Hawke blushed, then said "Thank you, Merrill." Then turning to her brother, she said, "Hello, Garret. I'm just heading out for a walk." Garret, who was not fooled in the slightest, replied, "Give Orsino my regards." Anger flashed in Bethany's eyes. "Why is it that you always leap to the conclusion that whenever I leave the house, it is with the purpose of jumping into the First Enchanter's bed, Garret?" "Because," Hawke explained, "whenever you wear a fancy dress, any amount of cosmetics and curl your hair, that is what you are going out to do. Also, your ears turned bright red as soon as I said his name. Have fun."

With that, he and Merrill walked past a now mortified Bethany and into the main ballroom and went through a door way to a side, saying hello to Bohdan and Sandal along the way.

In this side room, half of which was closed off by a small fence and covered with soft cushions, crawled Carver and Malcolm Hawke. At six months old, they could crawl around under their own power, and played around with the various toys their parents had gotten them. Hawke looked down with pride at his two sons; he had always known that his parents loved him, but it took becoming a parent himself to realize just how much that was.

It was odd; Carver and Malcolm were identical in looks, but were polar opposites in terms of personality. Malcolm, like his father and grandfather before him, was extremely calm and gentle. He hardly ever cried; even when he had gotten sick when he was four months old he hardly ever made any noise. That had been a trying time for both Merrill and Garret, both terrified for their baby.

Carver on the other hand was just like his namesake; stubborn, quick to anger, and slow to cool down. He had a habit of beating up on his sibling, which they had been trying in vain to stop. Garret didn't want what had happened between him and his brother to happen between Malcolm and Carver; while Garret and his brother had both been swordsman, Carver had always lagged behind in skill, which left him bitter, as he saw himself as the odd man out of the family, and was constantly trying to find some way to prove himself. He also blamed much of his problems on Garret, and had constantly berated him for what he perceived as his older brother holding him back.

But for all the hurtful words that his younger sibling hurled at him, nothing he had said hurt as deeply as watching him being smashed into the ground, and not being able to anything but watch.

Either way, from the moment his sons had been born, Hawke's opinion on templars and the Chantry's imprisonment of mages had redoubled. For he was almost certain that his sons, along with any other children he and Merrill may have, would be mages; Hawke did not have any magical abilities himself, but his bloodline filled (some would say stained) with magic, and he carried that in his blood. Add in the fact that Merrill was a mage, and Hawke was confident that Malcolm and Carver would both be powerful mages. And he would never allow them to taken from him while he still drew breath. How could anyone think that these children, playing innocently on the floor of their home, could ever be dangerous?

Well, not all that innocently, now that he thought about it; while he was reminiscing, Carver had started hitting Malcolm over the head with his rattle, which was causing the normally calm infant to slip into a rare bout of tears.

"Carver!" Garret growled at the slightly younger sibling, while at the same time reaching down to pick Malcolm up, cradling the sobbing babe in his arm and whispering to him to calm him down, all the while fixing a reproachful look at Carver who was pouting and making a point of ignoring him.

"I swear you are your uncle returned to haunt me." Garret muttered when Malcolm finally calmed down. Suddenly, Malcolm grabbed fistfuls of Hawke's beard, and began trying to pull it out by the roots.

"Ow ow ow ow ow ow, ow!" Garret tried waiting for Malcolm to stop, but when it became clear that the child would not cease until his father's facial hair was parted with his face, Hawke gently bent over the fence as far as he could, made sure he was positioned over some cushions, and let go of his son. Malcolm held on for a split second, and then dropped with a soft 'plop' on the cushions, laughing. Then, Carver crawled over to his brother and the two began playing together, all trouble apparently forgotten.

Rubbing his sore jaw, Garret turned to Merrill, who was quacking with mirth and holding a hand over her mouth. "You wipe that smirk off your face, women." Hawke demanded, seriously annoyed.

Merrill started laughing in earnest.

**A.N.**

**The scene with Hawke, Merrill and their kids was greatly inspired by Hatsepsut's fanfiction "birds of a feather, finally together". If you guys haven't read** **do so immediately; it is the one of my favorite fanfictions I have ever read. **


	17. Chapter 16

Chapter 16

Hawke stood rigid at the Kirkwall docks, dressed in his Champion's armor and standing alongside Merrill, Orsino, Bethany, Leandra, Aveline, Donnic, Thrask, Fenris and a contingent of guardsmen and mages at the Kirkwall Docks. They were waiting for the ship flying Fereldan's flag to land at the dock. The rulers of Fereldan, Alistair and Elizabeth, were coming to discuss combined military actions; there was a sizable force of rebel templars amassing in Nevarra, just over the border with the Free Marches, who had not joined with the Van Markham against the Imperium's invasion force. By all accounts, they were conscripting and impressing any and all persons that could bear arms into an army that was approaching 15,000 strong. While the majority of the force consisted of barely trained peasants, Hawke knew better than most how dangerous foolish people in large groups could be.

Most of the cities in the north western Free Marches were not part of the Kirkwall Protectorate or the Starkhaven Alliance, having instead thrown in with the city of Tantervale, giving the two allies a buffer zone between them and the rogue army. Still, both Hawke and Sebastian knew that once those cities fell, they would be next on the chopping block, and were beginning to assemble their own forces. Hawke had a force of 9,000 men, Sebastian had coaxed 10,000 soldiers from those within the Starkhaven Alliance, and both forces were steadily growing. Neither ruler was willing to risk their people's safety, however, which was why they were meeting with Alistair and Elizabeth in Kirkwall to try to convince them to send some of their army to assist them in case the Templar force made its move.

Hawke had hoped that Sebastian would have been here to greet the Fereldan monarchs with him, but the Prince of Starkhaven had encountered difficulties on the road, and was thus unable to arrive in time. He would just have to be filled in when he arrived.

Eventually, the Fereldan ship, escorted by Isabella's flagship, The Siren's Call 2, docked at the pier. The sailors on the ship tossed out ropes, which the dockworkers quickly tied to secure the ship. Once it was clear, a gangplank was lowered from the ship to the pier, and that too was secured in place. Then, Alistair and Elizabeth Theirin began to disembark.

The two wardens that had ended the Fifth Blight were a spectacular and intimidating sight. Both were armored in plate armor, Alistair's being golden while Elizabeth's was ebony, and both had large shields and longswords on their backs. What held Hawke's attention, however, was Elizabeth's uncanny resemblance to Sister Patrice, the Chantry sister who had been involved in several attempts to provoke war with the Qunari shipwrecked in Kirkwall and who attempted to have Hawke killed on three separate occasions due to her belief that he was a Qunari agent simply because he did not wish to commit genocide on them. Even their hairstyles were the same. The notable difference between the two, however, was their demeanor; while Patrice's features had always been twisted with anger, plotting how to destroy the followers of the Qun, Elizabeth appeared kind-hearted, and her sapphire eyes both shined and appeared hard as steel, evidence of her enormous willpower. Hawke had no doubt that this woman was the one that lead the army that ended the Blight.

As the couple began walking up the pier towards them, Merrill leaned towards Hawke and whispered, "What should I do?" "Just be respectful," Hawke replied. "As rulers of this city and the Protectorate, we are equal to them." Nodding, Merrill looked back at the rapidly approaching royalty.

As Alistair and Elizabeth finally reached them, everyone except Hawke and Merrill knelt down. For their part, the couple inclined their heads, and Hawke said, "Welcome, King Alistair and Queen Elizabeth, to the proud city of Kirkwall. It is an honor to have you hear, and you will be welcome here until you decide to return to Fereldan." It was only with great difficulty that he kept himself from saying _And when you do, for the love of all that is good and holy, take me with you. _

Alistair's eyes sparkled with humor; apparently he had heard what had gone unsaid. Shaking Hawke's hand, he replied "Thank you for your hospitality, High-King Hawke." Nodding in appreciation, Hawke continued. "I must warn you, Alistair, some of the nobles of Kirkwall have insisted on holding a hunt in order to celebrate your arrival. There is no point to it so far as I am concerned, but it may be best if we simply go along with it." Alistair nodded. "Yes, my wife and I have had to go through the same things in Fereldan. It is annoying, but we must carry on." Hawke laughed.

Meanwhile, Elizabeth held out her hand to Merrill, saying "It is a pleasure to meet you, Viscountess Merrill." Tentatively, Merrill shook the Hero of Fereldan's hand, squeaking "I feel the same, Queen Elizabeth." She paused, and then continued. "We….we heard the Dalish were given land in Fereldan at the end of the Blight. Is that true?" Elizabeth suddenly looked very sad. "Yes, it is true. I wish I could say that went better." Merrill's eyes widened in surprise and confusion. "Why?" "It's a long story," Elizabeth replied, her voice muted. "Alistair and I WILL make it up to your people, though. Fereldan owes the Dalish too much to do otherwise."

With that, the entourage began making its way through Lowtown towards the Keep in Hightown. In the years since he took power, Hawke had attempted to improve the lot of the cities poorer residents, particularly the elves in the alienage. He did not offer them any special treatment, but instead tried to undermine the bigotry that had stained relations between the two species ever since the Chantry's Exalted March on the elves' second homeland, the Dales. At first, he had met with resistance to the very idea of treating the elves as actual people, but after the reason for Hawke's building an army and attacking the Templars became common knowledge, the vast majority of the civilians in the Protectorate decided that it would be best not to challenge Hawke on that front.

About 20 minutes later, they finally finished climbing the stairs to Hightown, whereupon Hawke was faced with what looked like the heads of every noble house in the city, all of whom looked some level of angry, headed by Seneschal Bran.

"What is going on, Seneschal?" Hawke asked. "We want to know when you will get those filthy refugees away from our city!" one particularly perturbed woman shouted. "That is quite enough!" Seneschal Bran snapped. Hawke smiled slightly; Bran, while certainly not Hawke's favorite person, was very good at his job and always insisted that everyone be completely polite at all times, as Hawke had learned the hard way when he had told the Viscount and his son that they were both be hardheaded, and Bran had all but thrown him from the Keep.

Bran then turned back to Hawke and said, "As the lady was so kind to inform you, the nobility have requested that the refugee camps around Kirkwall be cleared out. The camps have, with the additions that you have continually made to them, become such that they could be considered additions to the city and not temporary shelters."

Hawke could have screamed with frustration; the nobles were behaving as if the refugee camps were a pointless nuisance and an unnecessary drain on Kirkwall's resources. Nothing could be farther from the truth; the influx of refugees had brought countless craftsman and laborers into Kirkwall. With these, the various industries of the city had been able to expand enormously, and almost all of Lowtown's crumbling infrastructure had been repaired. Granted the short-term expenses were rather large, but the long-term profits were far larger and, given how trade everywhere else had stagnated, guaranteed. The only reason they could have for opposing these steps would be their prejudices for anyone that wasn't them. He also knew that the nobles were trying to reclaim their own political power; the former Viscount, Dumar, had been extremely weak-willed, and the nobility had walked all over him. Hawke, however, had made it clear from day one that he was their leader, and they would follow him, not the other way around.

Deciding to meet the political challenge head-on, Hawke replied, "Very well, Seneschal, begin preparations to extend Kirkwall's fortifications around the refugee camps." Bran blanched. "I'm sorry, Viscount, could you repeat that?" "You said that the camps have become a part of the city, didn't you? Then they must be protected as the rest of Kirkwall is. Begin drawing up plans to extend the walls around the refugee communities." He paused, and then added, "Oh, and also draw up plans to enlarge and reinforce the existing walls; if we are going to undergo a massive defense overhaul, we might as well go all the way."

Bran stood still with his mouth open for a moment, and then stuttered a reply to Hawke's counter-proposal. "V-Very well, Viscount, but I do not believe there is enough coin in the treasury to complete such an undertaking." "Oh, don't worry, Seneschal Bran," Merrill cut in cheerfully. "I'm sure the nobles will all help pay for Kirkwall's new walls. They only want what is best for the city, after all."

It took every iota of self-control Garret possessed not to burst out laughing at the looks of dismay that flashed across the faces of every noble assembled there; Merrill had just put them into a position where they couldn't NOT support Hawke's proposal, for if they did they would show that they would trumpet their own selfishness and disobedience, and she did not even realize it. With their argument now fully undermined, the shell-shocked nobles slowly began to disperse.

"Very well, then," Seneschal Bran concluded. "I will begin making the preparations immediately." He then leaned in close to Hawke, and whispered, "I wasn't aware that your wife was such an excellent politician, Viscount." Chuckling, Hawke replied, "I don't think that she is aware of it either, Seneschal."

Without any further delays, the group finally made it to the Keep, and Hawke and Merrill led Alistair and Elizabeth into the Viscounts office. As soon as the door closed, Alistair started laughing. "Nice sign, Viscount; I can't believe Elizabeth and I haven't thought to make one." Chuckling, Garret and Merrill sat behind the desk, while Elizabeth and Alistair sat in two chairs in front of it.

"So," Garret began, "you do remember why I requested this meeting?" The Fereldan monarchs nodded, and Elizabeth replied, "Yes, the rogue templar army. We remember, although we don't know you would request our aid; surely such a force would only number in the hundreds, at most a few thousand." Garret nodded. "They did at first, Elizabeth. However, they have been forcing all farmhands and laborers in northwestern Nevvara into their army. By now they are 15,000 strong, and while Sebastian Veal and I hold the edge in both the numbers and quality of our forces, we are both hesitant to commit ourselves; things rarely go to plan in war."

Alistair nodded, and replied, "We are aware of that, my wife and I were forced to watch Loghain pull his forces out at Ostagar because he felt that sacrificing his King and the only people who can stop the Blight was best for Fereldan."

Elizabeth then spoke. "We truly do wish to assist you, Hawke. However, we have our own worries of invasion; in spite of the civil war in Orlais, the Expansionists keep a large force near the Frostback Mountains at all times. We believe that they plan to invade, so as to use Fereldan's resources against the Loyalists and Empress Celine."

Garret frowned. It was common knowledge that many Orliesan nobles had been chomping at the bit in order to reclaim Fereldan, as the nation had liberated itself from the Empire's rule only forty years ago; many Fereldans still remembered the time with hate. It did not surprise him that his former homeland would be the Expansionists' first target.

"I see," Hawke said. "So, you will not be able to provide assistance to us?" Elizabeth shook her head. "Not with actual troops, no. However, we CAN help in another way." Reaching into a pouch on her belt, the Queen of Fereldan pulled out two scrolls, and placed them on the desk. "These are instruction manuals to manufacture cannons, and explosives to arm them with."

Hawke stared at the scrolls, eyes wide and mouth open with shock. Then he snapped back to Elizabeth's face. "How did you manage to get your hands on plans for Qunari cannon and explosives?" he demanded. Elizabeth grinned. "I didn't. These are dwarven made. During my time as Fereldan's Warden-Commander, I financed a dwarf scientist by the name of Dworkin Glavonak. He was able to make explosives similar to Qunari blackpowder out of lyrium, though his explosives were far more powerful than the Qunari's. Eventually, the followers of the Qun got wind of his experiments and sent assassins after him, forcing him into hiding. However, he left behind clues to anyone who could continue his research. I managed to find and piece the clues together, and as a result Fereldan's army and navy have been augmented with these new weapons. We will give them to you and Prince Veal on one condition; that should the Expansionists, or anyone, ever invade Fereldan, you immediately turn your navies on the offending member's shipping, and marshal your armies to march with ours as soon as possible. Do you agree to these terms?"

Garret nodded, still somewhat in shock. "How could anyone refuse such a deal, your Majesty? I accept this wholeheartedly." Elizabeth smiled radiantly. "Excellent." Alistair let out a short laugh. "See, Hawke," he chuckled. "Fereldan isn't completely useless." "I never said that you were, Alistair," Garret replied. "But you WERE thinking it," Alistair challenged. Garret paused for a moment, and then admitted, "Perhaps a little." Everyone in the room laughed.

Just then, the door opened and in stormed Anders yet again. "Hawke," he shouted, "your women has been rooting through my grimior _**again**_." Elizabeth stood up, turned to the possessed healer, and said "Anders, so good to see you again." Her voice sounded sweet, but beneath ran an undercurrent of black anger. Anders paled considerably, and stuttered, "C-Commander."

Elizabeth walked forward slowly, until she was only a foot away from Anders. She was a full six inches shorter, yet Anders seemed to cower before her. Swallowing, Anders attempted to speak again. "Commander-"

That was all he got to get out.

Elizabeth slapped the mage in the cheek with so much force, his head snapped to the side. "THAT is for deserting the Wardens," Elizabeth shrieked. Anders attempted to reply, but before he could, Elizabeth slapped him in the other cheek, snapping his head the other way. "And THAT is for not sending me ANY word you were even ALIVE!" the Queen shouted. And before anyone could do anything else, Elizabeth pulled the now terrified into a bear hug, saying "and that is because you are my friend, and I am happy to see you again." Anders gave Alistair a questioning look over Elizabeth's shoulder. The King of Fereldan shrugged, 'I don't understand either' written all over him. Hawke, meanwhile, leaned over to a blushing Merrill, and whispered, "Please stop sneaking peaks at Anders's grimior, Merrill." The Viscountess blushed still further, and then nodded.

After Elizabeth let go of Anders, Hawke stood up and said, "Well, now that all of this has been dealt with, it seems that we no longer have any excuse not to go attend that damned hunting trip." "Actually, Hawke," Elizabeth replied, "I cannot attend. You see….. I'm with child." Caught off guard by the revelation, Garret simply replied, "Congratulations."

Anders, however, looked confused. "I thought that two Grey Wardens couldn't conceive a child together, Commander." Elizabeth suddenly looked nervous, and replied "Alistair and I found a loophole," clearly attempting to deflect the question. Anders, however, pressed on.

"A loophole?" he repeated, looking even more confused. Then apprehension lit his features. "Oh I see; you and your husband paid a visit to Avernus." Elizabeth glared daggers at Anders. "What makes you think that we went to Avernus?" Anders shrugged. "Who else would it be; it has to be Avernus." "I know lots of dangerous, subversive mages, Anders," Elizabeth declared, raising her voice. "Name one," Anders challenged.

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, clearly trying to think of an answer besides the obvious one, before muttering, "Avernus."

Everyone in the room burst out laughing.


	18. Chapter 17

Dragon's Rage Chapter 17

**A.N. Sharp-eyed readers would notice that Lord Cavril is actually the person who sends the Antivan Crows after Hawke's group at the beginning of the Mark of the Assassin DLC if it is played in Act 3. What do you imagine he is going to do after the smackdown Merrill inflicted on him? **

**Also, there will be no Talis or trip to Duke Prosper in this fic. While I adore cute, plucky elves that can kick ten times their weight in ass, hence my obsession with Merrill, I really don't like Qunari; they remind me too much of the old Soviet Union. **

**Except you, Sten; you are awesome! Have a cookie!**

King Alistair, High-King Garret Hawke, and Fenris rode two horses at the head of sizable group of Kirkwall's nobility, now several miles outside the city. It was an impressive, if not ridiculous, display; most of the nobles were dressed in attire that, while clearly showing their immense wealth, was ludicrous to wear on a hunting trip. In addition, almost all of them had brought an enormous entourage, including dogs, hunters, and body guards, meaning they would make so much noise their quarry was sure to hear them and leave the area long before they could ever get to them. In addition, all the snobs were all boasting of how they would catch the largest specimen on the hunt today.

Then, the prey they were hunting today would probably stand and fight. They were hunting wyverns, cousins of dragons, though they could not fly and they spat poison instead of fire. Still, that didn't make them any less dangerous; the lack of respect and common sense these people displayed appalled Garret. It didn't surprise him, though; he had ruled the city of Kirkwall too long to expect anything less from people who had been spoiled rotten from the moment they left the womb.

Deciding that he needed some decent conversation, Hawke turned to Alistair and asked, "Alistair, I heard your wife mention that you gave the Dalish elves land in Fereldan." The Fereldan King's head immediately lowered in sadness. "Yes, it is true. After the Battle of Denerim, Elizabeth and I granted the Hinterlands to the Dalish; they had already been completely evacuated because of the Blight, and afterwards people were grateful to them for helping to stop the darkspawn. As the years passed, though, some people started chaffing that "knife-ears" had control of our lands. There were a lot of small cases, drunks attacking elves, things like that. Elizabeth, Keeper Lanaya and I managed to keep the peace and calm people down, though."

"Then, just a few months ago, Mar Alamar, the Arl of the Southern Hills, decided that he didn't have to listen to Elizabeth and I in matters regarding relations with the dalish. He gathered his forces, invaded the Hinterlands, and began a campaign of extermination on our allies." Alistair shook his head with anger and disgust. "I was on a diplomatic trip to Orzammar at the time and Elizabeth was in Denerim, so by the time word reached me of the crisis, it was over. Fortunately, Mar's youngest son, Hafter, mutinied and rode all the way to Denerim, dogged by his father's lackeys the whole way, to tell Elizabeth."

Alistair looked up at Garret, his eyes filled with anger, sadness, and now fear. "She went mental. By all accounts, she vowed to erase Mar Alamar's very memory. She gathered half the forces of Fereldan's nobles, and marched them south to the Hinterlands. The army arrived just in time to catch Mar Alamar's forces from behind as they engaged the Dalish." Alistair paused, and then sighed and continued. "She ordered her forces to give no quarter. The Southern Hill's army was obliterated; not a single one of Alamar's soldiers survived the battle. And as for the Arl, Elizabeth had him and all his sons, except Hafter, executed, and their bodies left to rot. She gave Hafter his father's arling, and started trying to make amends with the Dalish. Most of them understand the Mar had acted alone, but many still want our blood."

Hawke cursed. Why did his species have to be so petty and selfish?

"Well," Alistair said, bringing Garret's attention back to him. "It seems that the Prince of Starkhaven has finally made an appearance." Looking ahead, Hawke saw that, sure enough, Sebastian Veal, accompanied by a small company of Starkhaven guardsmen, was approaching them from down the road.

As they approached, Hawke raised his hand in greeting. "Hail, Sebastian." Returning the gesture, the Prince of Starkhaven said "Hail, Hawke. Greetings, King Alistair. I apologize for my tardiness; we were attacked on the road by a group of rouge Templars from Orlais." "It is of no consequence, Prince Sebastian. We are just going on a wyvern hunt; care to join us?" "Certainly," Sebastian replied. He turned his horse so that he was to the left of Fenris's mount, while his guards filed behind him. Then, the procession continued onward.

Fenris turned to Sebastian and asked, "Why would Orleasian templars be that deep in the Alliance's territory?" Sebastian replied, "The Minanter River runs across half of Thedas, Fenris. Orleasian Templars bob in it like apples." "I like apples," Fenris replied. Sebastian barked a laugh. "Yes, well, _these_ apples will burn down your sister, slaughter your house, and rape your chickens." "That…is a disturbing mental image you have conjured up, Sebastian," Alistair quipped, looking slightly sick.

Hawke laughed loudly.

oo-00-oo

Hawke, Alistair, Sebastian, and Fenris crept through the forest at the base of the Vimmark Mountains the hunting party had come to, heading in the opposite of the noisy, unsubtle noble fobs. Keeping their eyes peeled, they looked for any signs of their prey, or for signs their prey was hunting them. Eventually, they came to a small clearing with a small cliff. Hawke spotted a nest at the top of the cliff. Motioning for his companions to get down, Hawke knelt and began to slowly advance on the cliff, trying to make as little noise as possible. As he rounded to charge the nest, however, stopped in his tracks and gasped.

There were no wyverns there.

There were griffons.

And they were dead, mauled on by some large beasts, likely the wyverns they were hunting.

Coming up behind him, Sebastian, Alistair, and Fenris all stopped and gasped at the sight. Griffons were large flying animals, their front halves resembling eagles and their back halves lions. They were the symbol of the Grey Wardens, who were the first to use them as battle mounts during the First Blight. However, everyone thought that the magnificent beasts had gone extinct during the Storm Age, 200 years before. That the group had stumbled upon a hidden nest of griffons only to find them dead was heartbreaking.

"I can't believe it…" Alistair whispered. "I thought that griffons were extinct!" "Dragons were also thought to be extinct, your Majesty," Fenris commented, "yet they are plainly still alive. Who's to say the same could not happen to the griffons."

Still somewhat in a daze, Alistair walked forward and knelt by one of the dead griffon's heads. Hawke knelt beside him, and inspected the animal's wounds. As he suspected, there was a gelatinous orange substance coating the injuries. "This is wyvern poison. And it's fresh. Very fresh." Hawke paused, scanning the area with his heightened senses.

There was a snap as a twig was broken behind them, and then a whoosh of air as something enormous leapt into the air.

Jumping to the side, Hawke tackled Alistair, rolling him away from the corpse. An instant later, something landed where they had been just moments before. Stopping them, Hawke jumped to his feet, knees bent, and drew the Celebrant from his shoulder.

Standing over its earlier kill stood a wyvern. It was easily larger than both the griffons it had slain. It roared, coating the ground with saliva and poison. Unlike most animals, wyverns had two separate lower jaws which moved independently of each other. Then, it spat a massive globule of orange death at the two monarchs.

Alistair and Hawke immediately sprang apart, and the poison splashed harmlessly in the spot where they once were. Frustrated, the wyvern lashed out with its tail at Fenris. Fortunately the elf used the lyrium in his skin to become ethereal, causing the muscled tail to pass through him without causing any harm whatsoever. Just then, Sebastian shot an arrow into the beast's left foreleg, penetrating its scales and causing red blood to run over its steel-blue hide. The wyvern roared in pain at the wound.

Hawke ran forward, trying to slash the wyvern's throat and end the fight, but the beast lifted its head at the last moment, and Hawke only scratched its neck slightly with the tip of the blade. The wyvern swiped at him with its right leg, and Hawke rolled away to avoid it. Alistair then ran up, his shield and longsword in either hand, and hacked at the leg the wyvern had just tried to hit Hawke with. The blade shattered a line of scales, cutting deep into the muscle and into the bone. Alistair pulled the sword from the wound and hacked again.

The beast roared in agony, and swept its now crippled leg towards the King of Fereldan and knocked him away, though fortunately he managed to catch the blow with his shield. Just then, another of Sebastian's arrow hit the wyvern in its left eye, blinding it.

"Enough!" Hawke screamed as he regained his footing. As he planned, the wyvern turned its uninjured eye towards him. Inhaling deeply, Hawke sent a stream of fire from his maw. The fuel stuck to the right side of the wyvern's face burning it and leaving it completely blinded. The wyvern screamed with agony, a horrible grating sound like tearing metal. Hawke hadn't suspected that the beast was even capable of producing such a noise. Hardening his heart to the creature's misery, Hawke ran toward the wyvern and struck it on the neck just behind its skull. The wyvern collapsed, and then tried to rise again. Hawke brought down the Celebrant on the same spot, this time decapitating it.

Driving the blade into the ground and leaning on it for support, Hawke looked around at his companions. Sebastian was approaching the wyvern's body to retrieve his arrows, while Fenris was helping Alistair to his feet. As soon as he was standing, Alistair walked up to Hawke, blatant astonishment on his face. "You breathed fire," he whispered. "Hawke…you….you breathed fire!" Yanking the Celebrant from the ground and sheathing it, Garret smiled, and replied, "They don't call me 'The Dragon of Kirkwall' for nothing, Alistair." The King of Fereldan chuckled. "That would explain the ridiculous cape, certainly." Hawke's smile widened and he spread his wings out until they were fully extended, to Alistair's complete and utter shock. "What cape, your Majesty?"

Just then, a squeak pierced the air, coming from the griffon nest.

The four hunters immediately ran toward the nest, where they found, amide the crushed ruins of several eggs, a single griffon hatchling. It was about the size of a large house cat. The membrane of his incubator still clung to it in some places; it couldn't have been more than a few hours old. Looking up at the newcomers, it cocked its head and squeaked again.

Wondering if the little thing was hungry, Garret reached into a pouch on his belt and produced several strips of dried meat, and offered one to the hatchling. It looked at the morsel, and then snapped it up, swallowing it in one bite. Hawke repeated the process with the rest of the meat, careful to keep his fingers out of the way. Once the hatchling had finished eating, it yawned, and snuggled against Garret's waist. He cleaned the membrane off the creature, than wrapped it in the blanket he had brought with him; the hatchling was unnaturally cold.

Then, Garret did some very quick thinking. He was certainly not going to abandon this helpless creature into this unforgiving, predatory world, but what was he to do with it? Who could he give a baby griffon to?

Then, realization dawned on him, and he wished he could slap himself.

He knew EXACTLEY who to give a baby griffon to.

oo-00-oo

Garret carefully finished tying the ribbon he had attached to the door to a small, unused storeroom in his mansion. After he, Alistair, Sebastian and Fenris had tracked down the noble hunting party, who had not succeeded in catching so much as a squirrel, they had brought back Hawke's trophy, drained it of its poison, which was extremely valuable, and were preparing for a celebratory festival for the next day with the wyvern as the main course. Normally, Hawke would have objected to such frivolous excesses, but after all the trouble he went through to kill the thing, he would gladly accept the festivals.

In the meantime, Hawke had smuggled the griffon chick into his mansion vie the Undercity basement entrance, and had made the necessary arrangements to turn the storeroom into a griffon nursery. He had even found old tomes on the black market that detailed the rearing and training of griffons by the Grey Wardens.

He had done this all for Merrill. Ever since he had met the then First of the Sabrae Dalish Clan, Merrill had always spoken of wanting to own her own baby griffon, sometimes to the point of irritation to Garret's other companions. Hawke had, on several occasions, vowed that if he ever found a baby griffon, he would give it to her. He had never expected to actually find one, though.

Finishing the bow, Hawke wiped the sweat from his brow, and was surprised by how late it was; he had been at his work longer than he thought. Returning to the main room of the mansion, he found Leandra and Bethany sitting at a small table, discussing plans for the latter's wedding; in the two weeks that had passed since Merrill's assault on Lord Cavril, which had caused Aveline several migraines trying to deal with, Orsino had finally proposed to Bethany, and Garret's parent and sibling were both floating on clouds with the preparations. Hawke, still rankling about the whole situation, had simply stood by and tried to accept the fact that his little sister was being violated. He still hadn't.

Stepping forward, Hawke cleared his throat, and said, "Bethany, Mother, do either of you know where Merrill is?" "No, Garret," Bethany said. "We haven't seen her for a few hours." "I believe I can answer that question, messere," Bodahn spoke up. Just before his assault on the Gallows, Bodahn had told Hawke that he wished to accept an invitation from the Orlesian empress, Celenne I, who had heard of his son, Sandle, who had a remarkable aptitude for enchantments. However, after the Orlessian Civil War broke out, Bodahn had declined the invitation and remained in Kirkwall.

"Mistress Merrill is away, ser," Bodahn continued. "She said that she was going to your 'secret spot'. I'm sorry, ser; I don't know what she meant." _But I do,_ Garret thought, a wicked smile spreading across his face. Marching double time out the front door, he heard Bethany snort behind him. He didn't care; he was on a mission.

Exiting his mansion, Hawke set out through Hightown's cobblestone streets. When he had first arrived at Kirkwall, walking through the city alone at night was a death sentence; Maker only knew how many different gangs, rouge blood mages, and slavers infested the city at night. Now, though, through a combination of the Aveline, her City Guard, and Hawke and his other companions, the city had been swept clean of almost all crime.

Finally coming to a small dead-end alley, Hawke entered, turned the corner, and walked down a little ways. There, in the middle of the alleyway, stood Merrill, outfitted in her silverite armor, with a mage's staff on her back. When she saw Hawke approaching, she smiled, and leapt into his arms, kissing him on both checks. "There you are," Hawke teased. "I've been looking all over for you." He kissed Merrill on the lips, and then began trailing them on her check. "I have a surprise for you back home."

Merrill's eyes widened, and she gasped with joy. "Oh, Hawke, you shouldn't have. What is it?" Grinning against her soft skin, Hawke whispered, "If I told you, it wouldn't be a surprise. But you will love it." Merrill groaned. "Don't say that, Garret. Now I want to know even more." Hawke's grin widened. "I know. That's why I said it."

Just then, a small movement caught Hawke's attention. Turning his head to the side, he looked into the darkness, and then he sprang back eyes wide with shock and indignation, and shouted, "ISABELLA!"

The promiscuous pirate-turned-admiral stepped out of the shadows, looking disappointed. "Damn," she cursed. "And you were about to get to the good part, too!" Both Garret and Merrill turned bright red, the former with rage and the later with embarrassment. Hawke opened his mouth to give the women the mother of all tongue-lashings, when suddenly a breeze blew around the corner, bringing with it a stench that he would have recognized even without his heightened senses.

It was Antivan leather. _Fresh_ Antivan leather.

And throughout his rise to power, Garret had encountered only one person who would willingly go out in public smelling like _that._

Turning around, Hawke called out, "Come out, Zevran; I know you're there." There was a pause, and then the leader of the rebel Antivan Crows stepped into the alleyway. "_Mierda,_" Zevran cursed. "And here I thought you hadn't seen me, your Majesty." "I didn't see you," Hawke replied. "However, when you smell as if you are wearing a corpse that has been fermenting in the sun for two weeks during the height of summer, the fact that I didn't see you hardly matters." The assassin's eyes narrowed and he whispered something along the lines of "no one appreciates…"

"So," Garret continued, "why are you here? Shouldn't you be out cleansing the world of Crows?" Clearing his throat, the elven assassin said, "Well, yes, but recently I encountered some information that may interest you. Apparently, one Lord Cavril is interested in hiring our services." _So,_ Hawke thought grimly, _the snake has finally decided to strike. _Cocking an eyebrow, Hawke asked, "So, Cavril wants me dead?" "Not you," Zevran replied, before looking pointedly at Merrill.

It took a moment for Hawke to make the connection, but once he did, he felt like his heart had stopped. "He took out a contract on _Merrill_!" "No," Zevran explained. "He has merely sent a message to the Crows that he wishes to take a contract on her. He actually came to me first, but I do not assassinate the wives of people that save my life. Even were that not the case, I would not have accepted it; _I _remember what happened to Meredith."

"Where are they?" Hawke demanded, rage he had not felt since the day of Alrik's assault coursing through his veins. "In a courtyard, not far from here. Follow me." And with that, Garret, Merrill, and Isabella all ran after Zevran, and after a few minutes of running, they came up to the courtyard the assassin had mentioned. Therein, they saw seven Antivan Crows, with lord Cavril and four of his bodyguards facing them. Cavril and the leader of the Crows were having a soft but heated argument, apparently over the cost of the contract.

"Alright," Hawke snarled. "I'm ripping this bastard apart." He took a step forward, but was stopped by a small hand on his arm. "No, Hawke." Turning around, Garret saw Merrill holding him back, her face a mask of determination. "This is my fight," she continued. "I will do this alone." Garret stared at her as if she had lost her mind. "Merrill, are you insane?" he demanded. "I can't just sit here and watch you run out into certain death." "That is exactly what you will do!" Merrill's voice was filled with such authority, it brought Garret up short; he had never heard her speak like this before.

Sighing, Merrill held Garret's face in her hand, and said, "Ma vhenan, I know you like to run off to save the day for everyone, but you can't do everything, and be everywhere. This is my fight; I need to be the one to do this." Hawke held his wife's gaze for a moment, then sighed in defeat, and said, "Fine. But if you get into trouble, I'm intervening, your fight or no." Smiling, Merrill kissed him on the cheek, then pulled her staff off of her back and marched into the square, stopping a reasonable distance away from her opponents, who were too busy arguing to notice her.

Gathering her mana, Merrill unleashed a Tempest spell on the Crows, attempting to take them out first. She was partially successful; one of the assassins spotted her at the last moment, and dove out of the spells target area. However, all the rest of the assassins were killed, blasted with multiple bolts of lightning. The surviving Crow stood up, and attempted to draw his bow. Merrill swiftly cast a Petrify spell on him, turning him to stone. Finally, she launched a Stonefist spell at the statue, shattering the assassin into a thousand pieces.

Cavril's four guards immediately raised their blades and charged Merrill, with no attempt at strategy whatsoever. Merrill simply pointed her staff at them and blasted a Chain Lightning spell from the end, electrocuting all of them. The four men fell to the ground without a sound.

Suddenly, Cavril charged over the corpses of his guards, swinging a longsword at Merrill's head. With no opportunity to cast another spell, the elf blocked the blow with her staff, and the two faced off in hand-to-hand combat. Cavril, for all his unfitness, turned out to be a formidable swordsman nonetheless. The fight went on for several minutes, Cavril trying to finish Merrill off, and Merrill trying to wear Cavril down to the point where he made a mistake.

Eventually, Cavril slashed downward with all his strength, and Merrill blocked the blow with the middle of her staff. The two locked their weapons, and began trying to throw the other off balance. Eventually, it was Merrill that succeeded; shoving Cavril back, she smashed the shaft of her staff into his face, breaking his nose. Then, she stabbed the bladed end of her staff up to the hilt in Cavril's abdomen. The corrupt lord dropped his sword in shock and pain.

Then, Merrill poured mana into her staff, and sent bolts of electricity through her staff and into Cavril's body, and he started twitching and shaking like a puppet on strings. It went on and on and on, until finally Cavril's head exploded, sending blood, skull and brains everywhere. Pulling the staff out of the headless corpse, Merrill bounced happily back to the group.

Hawke jaw had dropped so much he was sure it had dislocated.

"I'm not sure if I'm aroused, or scared," Isabella said, eyeing Hawke's wife with blatant desire on her face. "I like it." Garret turned on his admiral, and said, "We have been through this before, Isabella; you may look, but not touch." "Oh, come now Hawke," Isabella complained playfully. "You would be more than welcome to join us." Hawke's wings started to spread, and he blew a puff of smoke out of his ears. Isabella harrumphed. "Fine, be that way, you possessive ass." Turning to the elven assassin, she said, "Alright Zevran, get over here; we're going to go have some fun." Laughing loudly, Zevran replied, "Ah, my dear Isabella, I did so miss you." "That's because you have piss-poor aim. Thankfully, you have other uses," Isabella said, looking at Zevran's lions with an almost ravenous look on her face.

Rolling his eyes, Hawke embraced Merrill tightly, whispering, "You almost gave me a heart attack, ma vehnan." "Sorry," Merrill replied. They stood there for several minutes, relieved to still be together, before Merrill looked up, and said, "Well, Hawke? Aren't you going to show me my surprise?" Hawke's eyes widened; he had completely forgotten about the baby griffon. Smiling, he said, "Of course."

oo-00-oo

"It's right through here," Hawke said, leading Merrill to the nursery. Finally, he stopped by the ribbon-adorned entrance. Merrill cocked her eyebrow, and asked, "You're giving me a door, ma vehnan?" Rolling his eyes, Hawke explained, "The surprise is inside, love." "Oh," she replied. Then, she unlatched the door, and stepped inside.

At first, there was total silence. Then, an enormously loud squeal of joy split the silence. Hawke smiled.

_My work here is done._

**A.N.**

**Yes, I brought the griffons back for the sole purpose of giving Merrill Feathers. You can't be human and say you would not do the same. **


	19. Chapter 18

**A.N. I'm sorry that I haven't updated this story in so long. I became caught up in Mass Effect 3, my new Mass Effect fanfiction And We Shall Overcome, and my college classes (except for Pre-calculus, which I failed spectacularly). So, without further ado, the next chapter of Dragon's Rage. **

Chapter 18

Garrett Hawke walked down the streets of Lowtown, headed toward the Hanged Man, with the intention of calling on Varric. Several days had passed since Merrill had single-handedly smashed Lord Cavril's attempt on her life before it could even take shape. During that time, word had spread throughout the entire city of what had transpired, the entire Cavril family evacuated the city before Hawke could even proclaim their exile, and Hawke had been forced to remind Merrill that they had children; he was beginning to worry that his wife would forget Malcolm and Carver in favor of the griffon chick which she had, predictably, named Feathers.

Upon entering the dingy tavern, he began walking towards the back of the main room, to the stairs leading to Varric's suite, doing his best to avoid the drunken rabbles throughout the room, not out of sense of highborn superiority but because he simply did not want beer, urine and vomit poured over him.

As he approached the stairway, he overheard a not-very-hushed discussion coming from the table in the corner of the room.

"Have you guys heard about what happened to Lord Cavril?" one of the men seated their asked.

"Everyone in the whole city's heard," one of his drinking partner replied. "The fool tried asked the Crows to try and kill the High King's elven lass, and said elven lass wiped them all out without breakin' a sweat."

"I don't get it," a third added. "We've seen her; that woman is as thin as a rail. How did she take out a whole group of Antivan Crows?"

"Well, she is a mage, isn't she," the first man replied. "When you take that into account, it's hardly surprising, is it?"

Suddenly, the third man slammed his fist down on the table. "I don't understand! How can the Viscount still allow mages to roam free after this? The elf used her powers to murder someone!"

"No," the patron who started the conversation said. "I don't call killing someone who was trying to have me killed murder. And besides, how does this factor into the Mage-Templar tussle. I thought that was fixed when Viscount Hawke kicked the order out of the city."

"But the Chantry says that mages are too dangerous to be outside of their oversight," the second drinker insisted.

The first raised an eyebrow. "And Viscount Hawke has proved it isn't needed. If anything, there are _fewer_ dangerous mages since power was stripped from the Chantry and the Templars exiled. Same for Fereldan. The only places where Templars and Mages are fighting are places where the Chantry had total dominance. Taking the mages out of the Chantry's hands has only improved our situation."

The anti-mage drunk was quiet for a moment, then grunted and said, "Well, maybe you have a point."

Hawke smiled as he heard the ending of the argument. He knew that the changes he was making in the Kirkwall Protectorate would never be permanent with the Chantry's influence still in Thedas. The only way to make sure that these changes would remain in place was convincing the people of the city and the Protectorate that they were the correct decisions, and if this debate was going on with the majority of Kirkwall's citizens, it boded well for the future. The world could not fall back on the old ways of prejudice and blind hatred. Garret would do anything he could to ensure that it would not.

Continuing to the top of the stairs, Garret crossed the hallway to Varric's door, and knocked on the frame, walking in when he heard the dwarf shout "Come on in!"

"Ah, Hawke," the dwarven businessmen crowed. "Or should I say your majesty?"

Smiling, Hawke shook his friend's hand, and then said, "Good to see you too, Varric. Have you sent the message to the Grey Wardens about our finding live griffons?"

Nodding, Varric said, "I have, although I didn't tell them about the chick you gave Daisy; I don't want to imagine what she would do to them if they tried to take Feathers away." Looking the Viscount in the eye, he asked only half-jokingly, "Merrill hasn't gone too crazy about that thing, has she."

Looking him flatly, Garret replied, "I've managed to convince her not to move Feathers into Malcolm and Carver's room and give him his own place at the dinner table."

Varric shook his head and groaned. After a moment, he asked, "Is there anything else you need, Hawke?"

"Yes, actually," Garret replied, remembering his other purpose for coming. "I'm expected at a celebration to commemorate my hunting party's killing a wyvern. I was wondering if you had any contacts that I could get some supplies for the festival."

"Of course," Varric said immediately, then turned and began looking through several ledgers for different businesses. While his friend looked for what he needed, Hawke let his gaze wander until his eyes settled on a stack of freshly made books sitting on a table nearby. Crossing over to the pile, Garret picked a copy up, read the cover, and promptly turned red with embarrassment and anger.

The title read thus: _Steel and Sparks: The Scandalous Tale of a Kirkwall Noblemen, and his Dalish Mage Lover by Varric Tethras. _

"Okay, Hawke, I've got what you need," Varric called, setting a list of businesses Hawke would need to contact on another table. When no response was forthcoming, Varric looked at his friend, and raised his voice. "Hawke, are you okay?"

Slowly turning, Garret looked his friend in the eye, and raised the book in his hand.

Varric's eyes widened and the dwarf went pale with horror. "Uh-oh," he muttered.

For several seconds, neither one moved.

Then, Varric attempted to sprint out of the room. Hawke ran towards the fleeing dwarf and hit him with one of his wings, sending Varric on his back and knocking the breath out of him. Kneeling, Hawke snapped his right arm forward and closed his fist on Varric's chest. After several seconds, the dwarf regained his breath and looked down. Upon doing so, his eyes widened in horror.

Garret had seized a fistful of Varric's chest hair.

Looking at the Viscount of Kirkwall with a pleading expression, the dwarf begged, "No. Please. Hawke, have mercy!"

Ignoring the cries for clemency, Hawke ripped his arm back, tearing the fistful of hair away with it.

Garret latter learned that Varric's shriek of agony had been heard for four blocks.

oo-00-oo

Two days later, everything was prepared, and the upper class of Kirkwall was meeting in the square in front of the Keep. Pieces of the wyvern were roasting over several large cooking fires nearby; the beast was so large Hawke decided to cut up the parts to cook the beast instead of attempting to roast the whole animal in one piece.

Several large tables were arrayed in the square with enough chairs for each person in attendance, but currently everyone was up and about, socializing. Hawke himself was standing in front of the main table, surrounded by his family and close friends, namely Merrill, Bethany, Orsino, Leandra, his cousin Charade, Sebastian, Varric, who was wearing an undershirt to hide the bare spot on his chest and looking most morose, Fenris, Aveline, and Donnic, as well as Alistair and Elizabeth Theirin. Looking around, Garret again scanned the crowd, again, looking for Isabella and Zevran; he had invited the elven assassin as a guest of honor for warning them of Cavril's plot, who had accepted on the condition that he have several of his rebel Crows interspaced among the staff; it was his belief that such a festival was a prime target for assassination, either of Zevran or Hawke.

"Gah, where are those two," Hawke wondered aloud.

"Oh, don't worry, Garret," Merrill said. "I'm sure that Isabella won't be much longer. Isabella is usually on time."

Looking at his wife, Garret cocked an eyebrow and asked, "And what evidence do you have to support that, dear?"

"Well, let's see," Merrill replied, "Last year she…no, wait, she was late for that to. But the year before that…no, she wasn't on time then either. Well, there was when…" She paused at Hawke's look, then blushed and lowered her head. "Okay," she admitted, obviously embarrassed. "She is late ALL the time."

"Oh, have some faith people," came Isabella's familiar voice. Turning around, Hawke saw the admiral strut up to the group. She was wearing her ceremonial uniform and looked surprisingly professional, given what they all knew the women to be like.

"Ah, there you are," Hawke said, irritation coloring his voice. Before he could ask where Zevran, someone behind him said, "Isabella, is that you?" Turning, Garret saw that it was Elizabeth that had spoken. Smiling, the Admiral walked up to the Queen of Fereldan. Looking at Alistair, Hawke noticed the King had gone a very dark shade of red. A suspicion began worming into the High King's mind as to the circumstances regarding how Isabella and the Hero of Fereldan met.

Before he could voice his suspicions, however, Bethany beat him to it.

"How do you know Alistair and Elizabeth, Isabella," his sister asked.

"Well, let's see," the former pirate queen said, placing a finger on her chin to exaggerate hard thinking. "Two Grey Wardens walk into a brothel-"

"Never mind!" Bethany squeaked, immediately going as red as a beat.

"I still haven't forgiven you for leaving me out of that, you know." Coming out of a nearby crowd, Zevran walked up to the group, looking very handsome yet somehow unlike himself in the finery he was wearing.

Sebastian, meanwhile, looked like he was having a stroke. Raising a shaking hand, he pointed a finger at Alistair, and spluttered, "King Alistair….. Queen Elizabeth... you did…. That…with…"

Raising his hands, Alistair said, "Don't look at me, it was _her_ idea," and gestured to Elizabeth. Sebastian shifted his gaze to the Fereldan queen, who met his gaze, smiled, and wiggled her eyebrows suggestively. At this, Sebastian's expression turned into a very entertaining mixture of a man who was desperately trying to banish a mental image, but at the same time was unwilling to let it fade.

As entertaining as the scene was, Garret decided to have mercy on the Prince of Starkhaven, and said, "Alright everyone, stop trying to make poor Sebastian's head explode." Turning to Charade, he asked, "Cousin, would you be so kind as to escort our friend somewhere where he can calm down? The archery range, perhaps?"

"Certainly, Garret," Charade replied. Offering her hand to Sebastian, she asked, "Would you accompany me, Prince Veal?"

Sebastian looked dazed for a few moments, then stammered, "Y-y-yes, of course, Mistress Amell," and took Charade's hand. Throwing one last reproving look at Fereldan's monarchs, the pair walked off.

"What a prude," Isabella whispered, clearly having enjoyed the traumatizing of the Prince of Starkhaven.

After that, Elizabeth and Alistair both began catching up with Zevran, asking him what he had been up to after the Blight ended, how his rebellion was going, and what his plans for the future of the Crows was. Apparently, the rebel assassin believed that the Antivian Crows should work for the betterment of the nation, not simply for whoever paid them the most money, which the assassin's who did all the work never got to see. He also believed that the assassins should be treated as people, not as expendable commodities. In return, Zevran inquired to the couple's time as the rulers of Fereldan. From what Hawke was able to overhear, though Alistair was the one with the blood claim to the throne, Elizabeth seemed to be the one who was running things the vast majority of the time.

It also seemed that Alistair was just fine with that arrangement.

"It seems that the two of you have done a fine job," Zevran commented. "However, I am a bit worried about Fereldan's long-term stability; without an heir, the country will likely descend into chaos."

"That is no longer an issue, Zevran," Elizabeth said happily. "We're already expecting a child; I'm due in about seven months."

On hearing this news, the elven assassin barked a delighted laugh, and then said, "Ah, Avernus has achieved the impossible yet again. The next time I am a Soldier's Peak, I should congratulate him!"

Throwing her arms in the air in exasperation, Elizabeth exclaimed, "WHY does EVERYONE think that we went to Avernus for this?" Turning to her husband, she grabbed him by the collar of his shirt, and hissed, "It was you, wasn't it! YOU told them all about this!"

Watching Alistair stammer that he had done no such thing, Garret couldn't help but laugh. Taking a nearby glass of wine, he sipped the contents, entirely content. He had a beautiful wife, two sons, and many friends. Sighing, he closed his eyes and smiled.

He could not think of a way for any of this to be ruined.

0-0

_Templar Army War Camp_

_Nevarran-Free Marches Border_

Newly promoted Knight-Commander Cullen sat in his command tent, planning his force's invasion of the Free Marches. The Kirkwall Protectorate and the Starkhaven Alliance had to be destroyed; they were heathens who had denied the holy light of the Templar Order, and had sided with mages, beings cursed in the Maker's sight. It galled him that he had once felt mercy for them; they were a blight on Thedas, and needed to be completely eradicated, along with any who defended them.

Looking up, he shouted, "Lieutenant," and a Knight-Lieutenant stepped into Cullen's command tent. Standing, Cullen said, "Send messages to all officers in our army; tomorrow, we break camp, and march on the heathens of the Free Marches. We will burn the blasphemers clean, and return these lands to the Maker's light!"

"Yes, sir!" the Lieutenant shouted enthusiastically, then snapped a salute, and left on his errand. Turning to a chest at the back of his tent, Cullen undid the lock, and lifted the lid. As he did so, an unsettling red light filled the tent. Pushing the chest fully open, Cullen reached into it, and pulled out its contents.

It was a greatsword.

The same greatsword that Meredith had wielded in Kirkwall.

Lifting the haunted blade to the heavens, Cullen began laughing at the top of his voice.

It was the laughter of a madman.


	20. Chapter 19

Chapter 19

**Notice of Hiatus:**

**For the time being, I have decided to suspend work on this fanfiction after this chapter. The creative juices are just not flowing for this anymore. I'll probably have to boot up DA2 again. I will pick up with this story again once I have made some significant progress in the other two. Please be patient. I am by no means leaving this fic as is; it will just take awhile to finish. **

_Three months later…._

Hawke and Sebastian rode on their horses at the head of their combined army. The day of reckoning had arrived; the Nevaran rouge templar army had begun their march on the western Free Marches. Upon hearing the news, the cities in the area had panicked and abandoned any semblance of co-operation, allowing the blood-hungry, religious frenzied army to crush them one at a time. From scattered refugees, the High King and Prince found that the templar led mob was putting entire populations to the sword. Everyone from the priests and nobles to the beggers and infants were killed. It was quite clear that this force was not interested in reasserting Templar dominance; they were on a campaign of annihilation.

After the fragile alliance between the western cities had broken, the Lord Chancellor of Tantervale had sent missives to Garret and Sebastian with pleas for aid, and the two had immediately gathered their armies together to relive the city. Their forces numbered around 20,000 strong; both had managed to get five hundred more men in uniform each before the call for aid came. In addition, Hawke had managed to build five cannons in the same amount of time, and one of the engineers he had contracted to help construct them had the brilliant idea of attaching the barrels to a wheeled chassis, allowing them to transported and maneuvered far more easily. This, combined with the fact that their genocidal foe had decreased in number by a third, meant that it was quite likely that they would defeat them.

Hawke, however, found himself increasingly terrified, as he never had been before on the eve of battle. While he was one of the greatest warriors alive, and had several abilities that no one else had, there was always the chance that he would not survive his next life and death struggle. And he could not afford that now. Not when Merrill needed him to help raise their sons. Not when the Protectorate would fall apart without him. He had left documents behind naming Seneschal Bran to the Viscount's office in case of his demise, but he seriously doubted that the man could hold the quasi-state Hawke had created together.

Looking to his right, he stole a glance at Sebastian. The Prince of Starkhaven was similarly affected. Garret's eyes lingered on the red handkerchief tied to his wrist. It had been given to him by Charade just before their combined forces set out to relieve Tantervale. From what Garrett could tell, the two had become quite close since his cousin had led the traumatized Prince away from the risqué discussion about the Theirins' love life. Hawke, for the most part, was in favor of the relationship; if Sebastian and Charade did actually get together, it would solidify the alliance between Kirkwall and Starkhaven immeasurably. He wasn't particularly keen to have Sebastian Veal as part of his family, but it had been clear to Garret from the moment he met his cousin that the women would not be controlled by anyone or anything.

Turning a bend in the road, the two rulers found themselves facing the final hill before they could reach the city. Immediately, Hawke knew something was wrong; thick black smoke was billowing into the sky just past the summit. Calling for the force to halt, Hawke and Sebastian dismounted and slowly ascended the hill, followed by Fenris and Anders, who had accompanied the army with their comrades. They were the only other members of Hawke's merry band of misfits present; Bethany was on her honeymoon with Orsino; Aveline was forced to remain behind due to her pregnancy and to keep the city from falling apart when Hawke was gone; Varric, while an excellent skirmisher, was simply not prepared or trained for the all out battle they would be facing.

Merrill Garret had to almost force to remain in Kirkwall. While he normally would not have left her behind any other time- the woman was a veritable machine of magical destruction, and he would sooner have her at his back than any army- he would not run the risk of Malcolm and Carver losing both their parents at the same time. Merrill had eventually conceded his argument, but had clearly not been happy about it; she had been depressed for the entire time the Protectorate's army had gathered, and on their last night together she had been in tears. Hawke had felt no better, and had briefly considered giving command of the army to a different noble. He decided against it almost immediately; he simply could not bring himself to order thousands of men and women to stare death itself in the face unless he himself was willing to do the same.

As the four neared the top of the hill, they got down on their stomachs' and crawled so as to avoid detection. And as they reached top of the hill, he immediately knew that their caution was justified; he could hear the distant sound of metal striking metal, and all the other noises of war. Finally, as the four crested the rise, he felt his mouth fall open in horror.

Tantervale had already fallen.

The keep of the city, the largest and most notable building of the city, was covered in the banners of the Templar Order, while the few remaining pieces of the city's colors on the fortress were torn and bloody. Looking down on the remainder of the city, he saw the same was true for the rest of Tantervale; he could see the blood and bodies and hear the screams even from this distance, though that maybe due to his heightened senses.

Then, while scanning the destruction and needless slaughter, he saw something that rekindled his hope; Tantervale was divided into four sections, each separated by walls that ran from the outer wall to the keep, and the quarter closest to their force was still holding against the marauding crusaders. It was clear that the Templar force had overextended itself trying to seize the entire city as quickly as possible, and had run out of momentum. However, that was clearly the only reason why any of Tantervale's defenders still drew breath; even from his vantage point Hawke could tell they were on their last legs.

Hearing a curse, Hawke turned and, to his horror, saw Sebastian begin to stand up, reaching for his bow as he did so. Immediately, Fenris and Hawke grabbed him and slammed him back onto the ground.

"What the hell are doing, Sebastian?" Hawke hissed once he had checked to ensure they had not been spotted.

"We need to get down there and help them NOW, Hawke," Sebastian replied, rage and panic coloring his voice. "If we wait, these murderers will slaughter any survivors." He made to stand again.

Again Hawke forced him to the ground and hissed, "Don't be an idiot, Sebastian. If we charge down that hill now, our whole army will descend into chaos and we could very well lose this battle. We need to hold back, form up, and then strike."

"But the survivors may die if we don't move now," Sebastian protested.

"And if we charge without organization, they _will_," Hawke replied firmly. Sebastian scowled, but finally relented. The four crawled back down the hill, and returned to their mounts, beginning the preparations to bring their forces to bear on the rampaging zealots.

oo-00-oo

The process of bringing Kirkwall and Starkhaven's forces into position took several hours, longer than Garret had anticipated, but eventually the armies of the Starkhaven Alliance and the Kirkwall Protectorate were in place; infantry regiments were positioned just behind the crest of the hill, to hid their presence from their enemy as long as possible, and the groups of horsemen, lead by Sebastian, were sent to the north end of the hill, to flank the Templar army and draw their attention from Tantervale. Once this was finished, the cannon crews pushed their weapons slowly to the crest, and began aiming the weapons. Hawke had ordered them to target the various siege weapons the Templar army had built; two trebuchets, a battering ram, and two groups of onagers. These represented the most dangerous threats to their forces, and would need to be neutralized as soon as possible.

Looking over to the crews, Hawke saw each of the officers signal that their weapons were ready to fire. Looking back at the battleground, Garret raised his arm, hearing the soldiers behind him cover their ears; most of the men had not seen or heard a cannon fire before, so Hawke had made sure the warning of how loud the artillery was had been heard by everyone possible.

He waited a minute….then another…then another….

And then brought his arm down with a swift stroke.

Immediately, the crews touched slow-burning fuses to the touch holes of their cannons, and were rewarded with five massive blasts of blue fire and purple smoke; the unusual colors were the result of the lyrium that made up the explosive powder.

Looking at each of the targets in turn, Garret saw the results of these deadly new weapons; the battering ram was smashed the right side, breaking off the wheels and axles, rendering it useless. The two trebuchets were hit as well; one actually had its arm cut off in mid launch, causing the missile to fly backwards and kill several of enemy soldiers. The two guns aimed at the groups of onagers had fired exploding shells instead of solid iron balls, resulting in both the machines and the crews being shredded.

Pulling The Celebrant from the scabbard at his waist, Hawke turned and waved the infantry units forward, and the soldiers began marching up and over the crest of the hill, heavy infantry phalanxes in front with lighter armored archers behind them, forming a semi-circle around the summit. Mages of various specializations were interspaced among the soldiers, with healers at the very back, still behind the hill. At the same time, the cannon crews began reloading their weapons, first putting a wet ball of rags down the barrel to extinguish any sparks, then a bag of explosive powder, then the iron projectiles.

Meanwhile, the Templars and their conscripts were forming into a battle line, though Hawke noticed that a good number of men and women were fleeing the battlefield, terrified of the sudden appearance of enemy reinforcements. He also saw that these same people were being shot and killed _by their own side. _

Pushing the needless cruelty from his mind, he took position at the head of the combined force, Fenris and Anders on either side of him; the latter had traded in his leather robes for a set of chainmail armor, which had been enchanted to be feather light so that it would be less of a drain on his spellcasting, and was armed with a staff that was enchanted to make healing spells more effective and sported an 18 inch long blade on one end and a mace head on the other. Fenris held the Sword of Mercy that Hawke had given him just after his assault on the Gallows, and had augmented his armor with several more plates on his arms, legs, and torso, though he was still much less heavily armored than Hawke was.

Soon, the opposing force had assembled in what amounted to a mob; there was almost no organization that Garret could see. Months of genocidal warfare had reduced what he supposed was a threatening force down to a fraction of its former self; the soldiers were wild-eyed, starved, injured, sickly and exhausted, the banners were torn and rotten, and their equipment was rusted and broken.

Observing the force before, Hawke noticed that they were not pressing the attack, and with good reason; his forces controlled the high ground, and were more rested. Launching an attack on such a foe was foolish at best.

_Best not to leave them any choice, then,_ he thought darkly.

"Are the cannons ready," He asked a nearby sergeant.

"They are, my King," the officer shouted back.

"Then FIRE!"

Once again, five thunderclaps sounded. Almost as quickly, five explosions rose from the Templar ranks, killing and maiming dozens of warriors. Turning again, Garret ordered the cannon crews to fire at will. After giving the order, he heard a battle horn sound from across the field, and the enemy force began sprinting forward. Whoever was commanding this army had realized the grim truth; standing still and waiting for Hawke's men to attack was not possible with their cannons; they would be whittled down to nothing. Their only options were to attack or to retreat, and surrender the field and the city.

Given the fanatics within this mob, it came as no surprise to Garret which they chose.

As they drew closer, the archers behind them loosed wave after wave of arrows into their midst. The cannon crews fired their weapons again, but the casualties of these shots were fewer owing to the fact that the enemy soldiers had dispersed slightly as they charged at Hawke's position. Fortunately, Garret and Sebastian had anticipated this, and had planned accordingly. In unison, the mages in the front ranks of the army cast spells that coated the bottom of the hill in a coat of thick grease just as the enemy mob was about to start their assent. As one would expect, the front ranks immediately lost their footing and toppled over; even from this distance, he could hear bones snap and joints dislocate. Then, the fighters behind them tripped over their fallen comrades, and the entire force quickly lost its momentum.

Suppressing a sudden urge to vomit, Hawke closed his eyes, swallowed, and then reared his head back, and spat a small blob of liquid dragon fire down the hill. Time seemed to slow as watched the small sphere of flame descend toward stalled army….then landed on the edge of the grease field.

The effect was instantaneous, and horrifying.

The grease field went up in flames almost immediately, and the front ranks of the Templar army were at the very center of it, covered head to toe in the highly flammable substance, were engulfed in flame along the entire front. The screams of agony that came from those poor people made everyone within earshot cringe.

After several minutes of some of the most heinous sounds of torture Garret had ever heard in his life, the enemy force had stomped out the flames, and continued their charge up the hill. However, it was clear that the sudden stop had taken the wind out of their sails; it was difficult to regain momentum as exhausted as they were.

As their blood thirsty foes drew closer, Hawke signaled Anders, who shot a bright flare into the sky, signaling Sebastian and his calvery division to charge around the hill and flank them. At such close proximity, the Templar army would be unable maneuver out of the trap that had been laid for them. That done, the trio, as well as the army behind them, settled into battle positions.

Hawke held the Celebrant aloft with both hands, focused on his first target; a female templar who had lost her helm. Her blonde hair was almost black with filth, her skin had a yellowish-tinge, and her green eyes were those a frenzied animal; it was clear that she was suffering from advanced lyrium withdrawal. Seeing Garret lift his sword in preparation for an overhead strike, she raised her shield too block the blow.

Only to be met with torrent of flames as the High King bathed her in dragon fire. Her screams were cut short as he decapitated her.

And with that, the battle was joined. The templar mob slammed into the shield wall that Hawke and Sebastian's men had formed, and stopped dead. The liberating army pushed them back, and began stabbing at the mob with spears and swords, staying in formation. Against such a disorganized force, this organized killing machine was brutally effective. As this was going on, the archers and cannon crews continued raining their missiles on the now re-condensed enemy.

Hawke, however, was barely aware of any of this; all he had time to focus on was what was directly in front of him. He stabbed and slashed down any soldier who came to face him, his heightened senses making him keenly aware of every flaw in their technique that made defeating them laughably easy. He resolved to spar more with Fenris after this battle was over; else, he would grow too used to dealing with fighters that were so completely beneath him in terms of skill. Blocking a blow with his blade, he forced the weapon of his attacker down, and slashed the fingers of his right hand over the man's throat, tearing it open in four places. Before setting out, Hawke had augmented his armor, extending the fingertips of his gauntlets to razor claws and adding a jaw-like addition to his helmet. These additions offered additional protection, gave him an extra weapon, and made him more intimidating to his foes.

Fenris and Anders too were slaughtering indiscriminately. The Tevinter elf gutted three men in one blow, stabbed another through the chest. When a man behind him swung a two-handed ax at him, Fenris simply turned ethereal, causing the weapon to pass through him and stick into the ground. Turning, he reached out, sank his hand into the man's chest, and tore his heart out. Then, as conscripts swarmed him, he unleashed a wave of Fade energy from his lyrium tattoos, not unlike a Holy Smite, burning them, and causing them to stumble backward, allowing him to cut each of them down. Anders, meanwhile, was mainly supporting the two warriors. Casting repulsion and paralysis glyphs on either side of them, he kept their flanks clear, allowing Hawke and Fenris to focus on the enemies in front of them. In addition, he was constantly sending bolts of frost from his staff, and casting ice spells liberally, freezing the enemy in place and allowing Garret and Fenris to shatter them into shards of crimson ice.

This had only gone on for a few moments before Hawke spotted Sebastian and his men round the base of the hill, and begin their own attack. Dividing into two groups, the horsemen approached the melee at full gallop. Sebastian led one part, which consisted of lighter troopers armed with bows, parallel to the two armies, while the second, made up of heavily armored nobles of the two powers, slammed directly into the mob, hacking away at the Templars and their followers. At the same time, the Prince of Starkhaven led the second cavalry division behind the enemy force, firing arrows into their backs. The templar advanced immediately stalled, as they now found themselves attacked on all sides, and almost completely enveloped. They quickly lost any remaining unit cohesion, and with that, it ceased to be a battle, and became a massacre.

Easily an hour went by in this manner; Hawke and his men simply cut away at the panicked horde before them, taking hardly any casualties; every time someone on their side was injured, he was immediately seen to by a mage spaced among the soldiers, and taken back to the field hospital if the injury was severe enough to warrant much stronger healers. In addition, the mage's rejuvenation spells ensured that the soldiers remained rested, and weren't dropping over from exhaustion.

Garret, still at the head of the infantry force, continued the killing without pause. Slashing a man's legs out from under him, he pressed his fingers together, forming a single point, and drove it into his unprotected abdomen, into his chest cavity, wrapped his fingers around his heart, and ripped it from him. Dropping the organ, he wiped the excess blood from his palm, stood up…

And immediately froze.

Standing barely fifteen feet away from him was Knight Captain Cullen. At least, he thought it was Cullen. The man's previously short, well kept hair was now wild and unkempt; his eyes were sunken into his skull and burned with madness. He did not seem to be on the same level of lyrium withdrawal as other templars in this mob, but it was clearly beginning to set in. None of these things were what held his attention, however.

It was the lyrium greatsword Meredith had used in Kirkwall.

_How? _was the only thing that Garret's mind could conjure up. He _knew _that Anders and Isabella had dropped the thing into the ocean; they and every member of the crew of the ship had confirmed it. How could Cullen have possibly gotten it back?

So engrossed was he in these wonderings, he only just in time noticed that the Templar had charged at him, and he only just managed dodge the attack by spinning to his right. The lyrium blade buried itself in a corpse, as Hawke used his momentum to slash Cullen across his neck with his gauntlet's claws. Unfortunately, the Templar twisted his head to the side at the last second, and instead slashing Cullen's throat, the claws tore into his face, leaving four lacerations. Staggering back, Cullen wiped the blood from his eyes, only to be cut short as he blocked a blow from the Celebrant.

From there, the two squared off as the slaughter continued around them, giving and receiving injuries. Cullen had taken far more punishment, but Hawke simply could not swing his blade hard or fast enough to finish the rat off. Finally, he caught a brake; smashing the flat of the blade against the side of Cullen's knee, he dislocated the joint, sending the Templar to the ground screaming. Offering a twisted grin, Garret brought up the Celebrant to cleave Cullen's chest open.

Before he could bring the blade down, however, he was knocked off of his feet by a blast of energy from the lyrium sword. Coming to his senses, he raised himself to a crouching position, and found Cullen hovering twenty feet in the air. Nearby soldiers on both sides had frozen in shock at the sight.

"What's the matter, Hawke?" the insane Knight-Captain cat-called. "A bit beyond your reach?"

An instant later, Cullen felt a slash across his left cheek as the High-King suddenly blew past him. In shock, the Templar turned in the air, and found Garret soaring through the air, and turning around for another attack. Looking at the stunned look on the man's face, Hawke couldn't help but roll his eyes; what did people think he used his wings for, shade?

Although, to be fair, he hadn't learned how to use these new abilities overnight; learning to fly had been like learning how to walk again. His first attempts to become airborne had been utter and spectacular failures that had left any who witnessed them in stitches.

Diving past Cullen again and again, he forced Templar to flee towards Tantervale. Finally, Hawke scored a blow on the Captain's side, forcing him to crash land on the inner wall that the defender's still held by Tantervale's defenders, who were still fighting off the templar army trying to scale it. Landing smoothly nearby, Garret sprinted across the stone ramparts, bringing down the Celebrant in a massive overhead blow that Cullen barely blocked.

The duo continued their duel atop the ramparts, as the Tantervale defenders and the attacking Templars battle around them. Occasionally, members of both groups would attack one of them, and would be cut down almost immediately, but for the most part Cullen and Hawke fought each other alone. Finally, Garret struck Cullen's sword so hard, it was ripped from his grasp, and sent flying over the ramparts. Before Cullen could react, Hawke slashed again, this time cutting off the Knight-Captain's legs at the knees. Screaming in pain, Cullen fell to the ground, his cries cut short as his crash into the ground drove the air from his lungs. He opened his mouth to try to regain his breath, only to have Garret drive the Celebrant's blade into it. Hawke felt the sword drive through the soft tissue of the Templar's mouth, shatter the bone protecting the man's brain stem, and finally exit out and strike the stone beneath his head.

As this was happening, the lyrium greatsword was spinning through the air, down to the Templar's below. As it landed, its tip drove into a man's chest, pinning him to the street below. As his blood poured down the blade, the lyrium in the fluid began reacting with that of the greatsword, sending sparks shooting off of it, slowly at first, but then with increasing ferocity. Finally, with the sound shattering glass, a blue-white wave of energy sprang out in all directions, covering several blocks of the city on both sides of the wall. At first glance, it had not done any damage to anyone or anything.

However, Hawke's templar senses lit up like a bonfire almost immediately. Looking around, he saw shades and rage demons coming out of the ground in droves, on both sides of the inner wall, and began attacking both armies indiscriminately. Horror filled Hawke as he realized what had happened.

The Veil between Thedas and the Fade had been torn open, and the denizens of the strange plane of existence could now cross over at will.

Two groups of shades appeared atop the wall, and immediately charged at the High King. Turning to his right, Hawke bathed the first group in flames, before turning back and slashing apart the demons coming at him from his left. He quickly realized, though, that for every demon he killed, three more popped up. In addition, the corpses of the fallen soldiers began to be possessed by the vile beings and began assaulting Hawke and the other living beings around them. Eventually, just as he was about to be overwhelmed, Hawke leapt from the wall, and glided to the roof of a nearby house. Garret knew a lost cause when he saw one; there was no way a demon infestation of this magnitude could be contained by the exhausted armies currently in the city, and by the time his own forces could be brought to bear, the monsters would have spread to the entire city. The only option was to evacuate the remaining people from the city quarter and retreat.

Continuing from rooftop to rooftop, Hawke finally spotted a barricade about halfway to the city gate, manned by Tantervale soldiers and armed civilians, preparing for their last stand. Taking a deep breath, Hawke leapt from the roof he was standing on, opening his wings to their fullest extent to slow and control his fall. He landed in the center of the makeshift fortification, next to the commanding officer. His arrival immediately drew the shocked attention of everyone in the vicinity.

"We need archers in both of these buildings," Hawke ordered the commanding officer, indicating to the structures on either side of the barricade. "Tell them to aim at the heads of the possessed corpses, and make every arrow count." Pointing to the armed militia, he continued, "Have these men go to every building in still under your control, and evacuate anyone you can find out of the main gate; the Templars outside have been drawn away and are all but destroyed. As soon as the civilians have made it out, we fall back and close the gates from the outside."

After Hawke was finished, the soldier acquired a very disgruntled look, and shouted back, "And why in the Void would I take orders from you?"

No sooner had he finished the words, a Pride Demon crashed through the doorway of a nearby house, roaring, and throwing balls of poisonous green sludge at the soldiers and militia. Rearing his arm back, Garret threw the Celebrant end over end at the beast, striking it in the chest and sinking half-way into its body. Taking a running jump, he finished off the mystical being by kicking the pommel of the blade, sinking it deeper into its chest. As the twelve-foot tall demon fell, Garret saw at least a dozen corpses shambling in through the gap in the building. Ripping the Celebrant from the Pride Demon's corpse, he cut down three as they charged towards him, and split a fourth in half from top to bottom with blow to the top of its skull. Finally, he shot a wall of flame across the gap, burning the remaining walking dead alive. However, the added stress of the inferno was too much for the weakened building, which collapsed, sealing off the hole and ensuring that no further foes could assault them from that flank.

Behind him, Hawke could hear the commanding officer's shouts as he ordered his men to follow Hawke's orders.

oo-00-oo

"That's the last of them!"

Hawke beheaded a rage demon who had gotten too close to him, and then turned and shouted, "Everyone retreat! Last group through close the gates!" As soon as he finished his call, he smashed the pommel of his sword into an onrushing corpse's face, crushing its skull. The soldiers alongside him struck their final blows, and then they all ran pell-mell towards the gate, which some men and women were already closing. Coming to a halt once again, Garret began guiding the remaining men and women out of the gate, cutting down demons and corpses as he did so.

As the last of the surviving population of Tantervale passed through the narrowing opening, Garret felt the ground begin to shake. Looking back toward the burning wreck that was once one of the largest cities in the Free Marches, he saw a sight that chilled his blood; hundreds of demons and their empty flesh vessels were coming down on him from every direction in the city. Turning, he ran to the rapidly closing gates, turning to his side as he slipped past. Finally the men had closed the gates until they had to remove their hands; else they risked crushing their fingers. Barely ten seconds later, the wall of otherworldly creatures slammed into the gates forcing them completely shut. Hundreds of blows could be heard echoing from the other side, but it was clear that, for the moment at least, the disaster had been contained.

Panting with exhaustion, Hawke turned and surveyed the situation. Directly in front of him, in the space between the Templar camp and the city walls, the surviving population of Tantervale was spread. Beyond, he could see the aftermath of his army's battle with the Templar horde. It was essentially finished; the Kirkwall-Starkhaven force had emerged victorious, and their surviving foes had either fled, and were being cut down by Sebastian's cavalry, or had surrendered. With his heightened eyesight, he could see the POW's had been divided into two groups, as per his orders before the battle had started; the larger consisted of those the Templar's had conscripted or impressed into their army, while the smaller was made up of the Templar's themselves.

Hearing the sound of approaching horses, Hawke shifted his gaze to see Sebastian and Fenris riding towards the refugees. Taking a running leap, Garret jumped up onto the broken remains of the Templar battering ram and used it to propel himself into the air, and glided over the heads of the refugees, who usually greeted the sight with awe and fear. When he finally landed on the other side of the civilians, many of them backed away from him in terror; mothers hid their children from him, and several pulled weapons from their belts.

Hawke was rather annoyed by this. Granted, he had spent the last three years in either Kirkwall or Starkhaven, and the citizens there had begun to accept the radically new society where such things were relatively commonplace, but given the fact that he had saved all their lives, he didn't think pulling weapons on him was warranted.

It then occurred to him that, given his appearance, fear would be a perfectly appropriate reaction for these people to exhibit. Sheathing his sword, he reached up, placing both hands on either side of his helmet, and pulled the shaped piece of metal off, showing the people that they were in no danger from him. The civilians relaxed slightly, but still kept on their guard.

Hearing the sound of horse hooves approaching, Garret turned to greet his two companions. Fenris had a bandage wrapped around his left leg, and Sebastian had a long cut that reached from his left temple down to his mouth. However, aside from these injuries, the pair seemed in good health.

Sebastian was the first to reach the High King, and his bearing radiated concern. "Hawke, are you alright?" he practically shouted." Fenris told me about Cullen and that accursed blade of Meredith's."

"I'm fine, Sebastian," Garret replied assuringly. "I'm more concerned about what happened in my absence. And where is Anders?"

"He was hit with a Holy Smite soon after you chased after Cullen," explained Fenris, who had arrived during the interm. "The Templar who assaulted him succeeded in knocking him out, but I intervened before he could finish him off. He is at the healers' tents now."

Hawke smirked, and said teasingly, "Fenris, if I didn't know any better, I'd say that you actually _cared_ for Anders."

The elven warrior immediately tensed with indignation. "I have no such feelings for the mage, Hawke. The only reason I saved that wanna-be magister is because you care about him for reasons that are lost to me."

Hawke was about to reply, when surprisingly Sebastian cut in. "Oh come now, Fenris," the Prince chided. "Anders has always been hard to deal with, but he has never been as monstrous as the maleficar that lord over the Imperium."

Fenris ran his hands over his face, muttering, "I am too tired for this." Turning back to Hawke, he asked, "Do you wish me to relay orders to the officers to begin caring for these refugees, Hawke?"

"Yes," the High King replied. "Also, tell them the prisoners who were conscripted into the Templar army are to be released after being disarmed, and be given one sovereign each. They are not our true enemy, and do not warrant our wrath."

"And the captured Templars?" Fenris asked, trepidation coloring his voice; Garret was well known for his complete intolerance to hostile anti-magic warriors that entered the Protectorate's lands.

Today was no exception.

The man's entire countenance darkened, and though his reply was a whisper, it couldn't have resonated any better if he had screamed it.

"Kill them all, and leave them to rot."

Sebastian immediately blanched, and, very nearly shouting, said, "Hawke, we need to give those Templars a proper burial! If we don't-"

"Then their souls will not be released from the bodies, and will decay along with them," Garret finished. "Which is exactly the reason I am doing it. What these…things have done here cannot be tolerated. They believed that these atrocities would allow them an eternity in paradise. I see no fitter punishment than to ensure they do not receive it."

Sebastian and Fenris remained where they were for a moment, before the elf nodded his head, and turned to ride towards the battlefield. Turning, Hawke looked back over at the city walls. In the distance, he could hear the faint screams as those still in the city were slaughtered by the rampaging demons. Hawke buried his face in his hands, took a deep breath and sighed.

_How did i come to this,_ he thought. _Is magic really so evil that it warranted this atrocity? _

Hawke merely stood as the minutes passed, as Protectorate and Alliance soldiers began organizing the refugees, and as screams of pain came from in front of him and behind him as the instigators of this genocide were punished for their crimes.


	21. Chapter 20

Chapter 20

The army was still running around like agitated ants well into late afternoon and evening, as Hawke and Sebastian directed their men to various tasks. Some gathered the dead of their own armies, which were relatively few in number, and prepared funeral pyres for them, to burn their bodies to ash just as Andraste herself was millennia ago. The handful of priests that accompanied them from Kirkwall and Starkhaven were administrating last rites to the fallen, which was one of the few things they could do in Protectorate or Alliance territory at this point.

After Hawke had slaughtered Meredith and banished the Templar Order from Kirkwall, the Chantry's power in south-eastern Thedas had been utterly destroyed. In the days after he had become Viscount, Hawke had taken even further steps to crush the power the religious group held, his efforts ranging from completely removing the Circle of Magi from Chantry control to hiring literate citizens to serve as dictators for the illiterate who wished to send letters and communicate in place of the Chantry sisters, and everything in between. Grand Cleric Elthina had protested his actions, but he had ignored her just as Meredith and Orsino before him. Eventually, he had even gotten a letter from Divine Justinia V herself, requesting an explanation for his actions and that he begin setting things back as they were.

Garret had never replied. And when the Circle of Magi declared itself independent of the Chantry in 9:38 and the Templars quickly following suit, he had received no further trouble on the matter from anyone, allowing him to sink the roots of his radical new society deep into his territory. Sebastian had committed similar actions in the Starkhaven Alliance, though not nearly to the same extent that Hawke had.

Turning away from the funeral pyres, Garret looked back to the newly set up refugee camp, housing the surviving population of Tantervale. From what he could tell, barely a tenth of the original population, around ten thousand people, had survived both the Templar army and the massive demonic invasion that had followed after the Lyrium Sword had torn open the Fade. Compounding the problem was that neither Hawke nor Sebastian had made plans for providing for such a large group of people; they were now responsible for half again as many people as they were when they were setting out. Garret had ordered his men to cannibalize the now abandoned Templar army camp for food, tents, and other supplies to provide the refugees, but there was little to find that was usable and unspoiled. They did find a great deal of loot and bullion that had been taken from the previous looted cities, particularly in the tents belonging to high-ranking Templars and other leaders in the "liberation" army. Hawke had given strict orders for a great deal of this wealth to be placed together and guarded, so as to be used to purchase food and other supplies for the refugees and the army as soon as possible once they had returned to friendly territory. He would have liked to have used all of it, but numerous nobles and men-at-arms had protested that order, as it meant no plunder for them, and he had been forced to make concessions.

Around a quarter of a mile from the burning funeral pyres, a very different scene was unfolding. That was where Hawke had taken every single surviving Templar that had been captured by his and Sebastian's forces that day, and who were having their throats slit. It was long, grueling work, as there were a few thousand of the crazed soldiers to execute. Already, Hawke could see, from his vantage point at the top of the hill, what was quickly becoming a lake of blood.

He felt nothing as he watched the prisoners writhe on the ground as their life blood spilled out of them in torrents; Garret Hawke, Viscount of Kirkwall and High King of the Kirkwall Protectorate, had long since stopped feeling pity or mercy for _any _willing member of the Templar Order. He had tried, many times, in the past to rationalize their behavior, that they were only doing what they thought was right and that they had been ingrained with the Chantry's insane dogma and propaganda from birth. His sister, Bethany, still believed it, and to some extent it was correct; some Templars had deserted their standards to fight _with _the mage Revolutionaries and still more had remained behind in the initial Second Schism, as it was quickly becoming known, to defend the Chantry. Even in the Rebellious factions of the Order, this had proven true in some cases; the Knight-Divine commanding the majority of Templar forces in Nevarra had willingly set aside his prejudice and worked with mage forces to bring the Tevinter Imperium's forces to a halt in that country. When Hawke had set out with his army to come to the aid of Tantervale, he had even heard rumors that this same Knight-Divine was considering suspending his campaign against the mages, rejoin with the Chantry, and allow the magic users of the country to live in peace. And this was to say nothing of Thrask and his men, who had been nothing but assets to his own city.

Still…

After 2 years of constant raids and attempted coups by blood thirsty fanatics, and now given this new atrocity, Garret vowed never to allow any leniency to the bucket-heads ever again. Beyond the fact that any of their number who had any real sense of morality seemed to have already jumped ship once they saw what their less scrupulous leaders were planning to do, those that remained were obviously either completely accepting of the genocidal campaign or simply did not care either way. And these people could not, and so long as he was in charge _would not_, be given clemency. There was only so much that he was willing to forgive on the grounds of background and what one had been force fed as a child. If those among the Templar ranks were still committed to following their commander's orders, even after seeing the results of what they entitled, than he had nothing but contempt for them. He only wished that he could kill them all himself. Slowly, he felt his anger rise again, faintly aware of the small puffs of smoke coming out of his nose.

"Hawke?"

Snapped out of his thoughts, Garret turned his head to find Sebastian, Fenris, and Anders approaching from behind him, with a group of the Prince of Starkhaven's personal guard. The mage had apparently finished with his healing session from his battle wounds.

Taking a deep breath, and reining his anger in, Hawke smiled slightly, and turned fully to face his friends and allies. "Sebastian, Fenris," he said, inclining his head to the prince and the elf. "Good to see you too, Anders. Are you alright?"

"Just a little stiff," the Spirit Healer commented. "I should make a full recovery. I won't be back in battle-ready condition for another few days, though." A cheeky grin spread across Anders's face then, a feature that had been seen more and more since Hawke's rebellion. "Of course, given how good looking my nurse was, I may fake being in recovery longer than necessary."

Fenris groaned at his arch-rival's comment, muttering, "Oh here we go again."

"Hey," Anders snapped in return. "You're just jealous that she was more interested in me than you!"

"I am not!" Fenris said, voice raised with ire. "Why do you always play at something so childish?"

Hawke leaned over to Sebastian, and whispered, "Do you have any idea as to what we are watching right now?"

The Prince of Starkhaven smirked before saying, "It's a game Anders invented to needle at Fenris; turning every time he meets a woman into an all out war over which of the two will win her affections. It has never failed to get the elf's hackles up."

Garret snorted. "Oh please," he said. "As if such a thing would ever catch on in the real world."

Upon hearing the argument between the two archrivals heating up, with Fenris shouting something about Varric's new line of… "romance" novels, featuring a brooding, tattooed elf as one the main characters, Hawke decided to intervene.

"Alright, that's enough, you two," Garret half-shouted. Once Anders and Fenris had simmered down, he continued.

"Since you two apparently have so much free time and energy on your hands, perhaps you can do something useful instead. Start spreading the word to the army commanders to make camp; executing… them," he spat, gesturing to the mass of defeated Templars currently being put to death, "is taking longer than I expected, and we won't be able to move the army out until it is done, which will probably not be until nightfall."

"Or we could show them mercy, keep them alive, and bring them with us," Sebastian slowly put forward, clearly unsure of how Hawke would react to his suggestion.

Garret barked a short, humorless laugh. "Very funny, Sebastian," he said to the Prince with a positively feral grin, before turning and walking down the hill towards the army and refugees, shouting orders to nearby group of runners as he did so.

Behind him, Sebastian turned pale, and then green, at his ally's blatant ruthlessness. He turned his gaze to the other two members of the group, desperately looking to them for support.

"I wouldn't look at me, my Prince," Anders said, an ironic, though paper thin, grin on his face. "A mage revolutionary possessed by an enraged spirit of Justice, even if he has mellowed out in recent times, is not the kind of person who you can draw sympathy for Templars from. Even if I wasn't either of those things, I would probably not be in favor of it."

"As much as I hate to admit it," Fenris said, the words sounding as though they were being dragged from him with rusted fish hooks, "_the mage_ is right." Pausing, he turned his gaze back to the burning city. "Anyone who orders this done, or willingly participates in it, does not deserve life."

For a short time, the trio stood silently as they looked over the once-proud city. Then, one by one, they turned to follow Hawke down the hill, the screams of Templar soldiers waiting to bleed out following behind them.

oo-00-oo

A few weeks later, back in Kirkwall, Merrill was engaged in a far less dangerous and more mundane, but some would say just as messy, task; trying to get her sons, not even a year old yet, to eat their food properly, without it spilling down their chins and onto their laps.

"Come now, Da'len," she half cooed, half begged to Carver as she held a spoonful of mashed vegetables up to his lips, which were pressed as firmly shut as possible. "The sooner you finish, the sooner it will be done." If her words made any impression on her young child, it did not show; the only thing that changed was that Carver leaned back away from her, trying to get as far away from his breakfast as possible.

Lowering the spoon, Merrill sighed heavily, head held in her unoccupied hand. _Why must this boy be so difficult, _she groaned in her mind. Looking to the side, to the next seat at the dining table, she saw Orana feeding Carver's brother, Malcolm. The main difference between the two was that Orana was not being forced to beg and plead with her charge; Malcolm was eating his meal, if not happily, than at least obediently.

Catching Merrill's gaze, Orana smiled slightly, and asked, "Would you like to trade, Lady Hawke?"

Caught off guard by the title, which even after over a year she was still not used to hearing, Merrill hesitated before nodding. Standing, the two elven women switched positions, and resumed feeding the two small children. As much as she hated to admit it, their mother was immensely relieved by taking over Malcolm's feeding; Carver's seemingly endless stubbornness drove her to the ends of her patience at times, but Merrill hated showing favoritism towards her two sons, fearing that she would plant the seeds of jealousy in her slightly younger child.

Hearing a sound that was somewhere between a snap and a tear from further down the table, Merrill turned to see Feathers ripping into the lamb leg she had given him with gusto. Garret had told her, in no uncertain terms, that she was not let her beloved griffon chick eat at the dining table… but what he didn't know wouldn't hurt him.

"Feathers," she snapped at the animal, now twice the size of when he was first found, who immediately stopped and looked up, the juices from meat coating the fine feathers on his checks. "Please, slow down; you are going to chock yourself. And teach my children awful table manners." Feathers cocked his head, peeped his reply, and went back to his lamb leg, though much more slowly this time.

Not too long after this, Bethany entered the dining room, dressed in her old Circle Enchanter robes. While the College of Magi in Kirkwall had completely changed its wardrobe from the Chantry's mandated uniforms, as another sign that the religious figureheads had lost their hold on them, Garret's sister had grown fond of them and still wore them when she was at home. She and Orsino had returned from their honeymoon just after Kirkwall's army had marched to join the other levies of the Protectorate and Starkhaven Alliance; Hawke had tried to keep word from the couple of what was happening, so as not to ruin their time together, but they had found out anyway.

"Good morning, Merrill" her sister-in-law said in greeting, giving her a hug and Malcolm a kiss on the head. As she turned to take her seat at the table, however, she paused, and took a closer look at the elf.

"Are you alright, Merrill," Bethany asked, pointing to the slight bags under her eyes.

Glancing up from her job, Merrill answered, "I didn't get much sleep last night, Bethany; that's all. No need to worry yourself over it."

Her sister-in-law, smiling sadly, put a hand on her shoulder, and said, "Don't worry about Garret; we got his letter almost two weeks ago; he is fine, and should be back in Kirkwall any day now."

"I wasn't kept awake because I was worried about Hawke," Merrill explained, flushing slightly as she began. "I couldn't sleep because of you and Orsino. If you two are upset that your honeymoon was cut short, you go on another one; I'm sure Garret won't mind."

At that, Bethany did a double take and turned red from her neck to her hairline. Immediately, she ducked her head, and scooted down the table, where Bodahn served her breakfast.

Eventually, Orsino and Leandra came into the dining hall, and began eating as well. The entire group fell into content silence, apart from the occasional noises from the babies and the squelching from Feathers ripping the meat from his bone.

Leandra, taking a last sip of her drink, looked over the room at her family; Merrill, feeding her grandchildren, her daughter sitting with her husband as they ate, occasionally meeting each other's gazes and giving each other the heartwarming smiles newlyweds often did. There was only a single thing that spoiled the start of this day was the fact that one of their number was not present.

Setting the glass down, however, she noticed the strangely shaped shadow coming down from one of the high windows. Looking up, her eyes very nearly popped out of their sockets. Garret Hawke, her son, was perched atop the sill of the window, looking over the lot of them. After seeing that his mother had spotted him, he held a finger up to his lips, smirking wickedly. Leandra glared at him with disapproval, but that didn't keep the slight grin off her face.

Looking over the table again, to make sure that no one was paying attention, Garret spread his wings and gently glided down to the far end of the room; Bethany was the only one that felt the gust of air as he sailed down, and she simply looked to her left, wondering where the draft had come from. Landing softly as a possible, he quickly spun around, pleased to see that the only one aware of his presence was his mother, still giving him the same look of amused disapproval that he had seen whenever Leandra had come across either he or another of his siblings about to pull a nasty prank on another.

Silently walking up to the table, he noticed that, in spite of the switch, Carver was no more willing to be fed by Orana than by his wife; the stubborn infant simply refused to open his mouth, and whenever their servant managed to sneak some of the massed vegetables into his son's mouth, almost all of it ended up on his chin or lab, drawing sighs of frustration from even their usually infinitely patient servant. Eventually, setting the small spoon she was using aside, she turned to his wife, and said, "I'm sorry lady Merrill; he is simply not cooperating."

This was simply too good of an opportunity for him to pass up. "Here, Orana," Garrent said, holding his hand out for the spoon she was holding. "Let me try my hand at it."

At the sound of his voice, the poor elven servant practically jumped out of her skin, leaping up and began stammering out an apology for not noticing his arrival, but she was immediately drowned out as Merrill had come running up to him and tackled into him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

"Why do you _do that, _Garret," she shrieked at him even as she gave him hug so tight he was sure his ribs would shatter. "Could you not give us even a day's notice that you would be home? Now you've shocked us all half to death, you've made Orana panicked, and you've… you've… you…" Spluttering into silence, she finally made a sound somewhere between a groan and a wail, and buried her head into his chest. Chuckling, Hawke, returned her embrace and closed his eyes, gently rocking his wife side to side, ecstatic to see her again after so many weeks. Around him, he heard chairs scraping against the floor as his mother, sister, and brother-in-law came to greet him as well.

As he opened his eyes, however, Garret's gaze drifted to the far end of the table, whereupon they sprang open fully, and the rest of him went stock still.

"Merrill…" he muttered, using the same tone of voice used whenever he caught her picking flowers out of the Hightown gardens or something similarly unsociable. When the elf lifted her head to look at him, he pointed a finger at what had caught his attention. "What. Is. That?"

Turning, Merrill saw the subject of her husband's ire; Feathers, still at the dining table, and still eating his lamb leg. Looking up, the griffon chick gave another peep, not understanding what the fuss was about.

Immediately, his wife went bright red to the very tips of her ears, and gave a very nervous, very embarrassed laugh. Narrowing his eyes in only half-mock amusement, Garret extracted himself from her arms, marched down to the end of the table, took the plate with the leg from Feathers, ignoring the chick's indignant cries, and set it back down on the floor well away the table. After that, he motioned for the chick to continue eating, who gave him an annoyed harrumph before continue his meal.

Turning and walking back to his family, Garret shock his head, and said with exasperation, "How is it that I can go to war against the Templar Order, a group of people that are trained from childhood to fight, and yet feel like it is my wife's antics that will be the death of me?"

And, to small chuckles, he rejoined his family, as Bodahn brought out another plate for his breakfast.

**A.N. **

**Wow! It has been over a year since I wrote anything for this! I had to reread the thing at least twice to remember my own plot. And it didn't help that my laptop decided to stop working right when I was halfway through writing this. Or that I now have a job AND go to college. **

**Anyway, I have recently gotten into Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice And Fire, and eventually decided to brave George RR Martin's ire and check out their sections on this site. As it is want to do, my imagination began running wild, and I came up with two ideas for a fanfic in this book series. **

**1. Taking place during Robert's Rebellion, right after the Battle of the Trident. Ned Stark goes to King's Landing, finds Tywin's army sacking the city, and makes his objections known with Ice instead of words. Afterwards, his bannermen declare him King of the Iron Throne. **

**2. Tyrion fails to recognize Catelyn on the road back to Winterfell, and Ned, disgusted by Robert's recent actions (you know what I'm talking about) stops his investigation into Joffrey, Myrcella, and Tommen's parentage, is dismissed as Hand of the King by Joffery, and sparks war with the Lannisters after protecting Gendry from Joffrey's thugs. **

**If you are familiar with the series tell me what you think of my ideas. If not, well, just a review would be nice. **


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